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'TtRU5Kia-^?i.OUJ€\' 


The  Life,   Letters  and   Work   of 
Frederic  Baron   Leighton 

Of  Stretton 


VOL.   I 


"  If  any  man  should  be  constantly  penetrated  with  a  gift 
bestowed  on  him^  it  is  the  artist  who  has  realised  as  his 
share  a  genuine  love  from  nature ;  for  his  enjoyment^  if  he 
puts  his  gift  to  usury  J  increases  with   the  days  of  his  life.''^ 

•  ••••• 

"  Every  man  who  has  received  a  gift^  ought  to  feel  and 
act  as  if  he  was  a  field  in  which  a  seed  was  planted  that 
others  ?night  gather  the  harvest." 

FREDERIC  LEIGHTON. 

August  1852. 


The  Life,  Letters  and 

Work  of 

Frederic  Leighton 


BY 

MRS.   RUSSELL    BARRINGTON 

AUTHOR   OF    "reminiscences   OF   G.    F.    WATTS,"   ETC.    ETC. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.  I 


NEW   YORK 
THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

1906 


Printed  by 

Ballantyne,  Hanson  6-  Co. 

Edinburgh 


ND 


EARLY    PORTRAIT    OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 

From  the  Painting  by  G.  F.  Watts  (Photogravure) 

By  permission   of  the   Hon.   Lady   Leighton-Warren    and 

Sir  Bryan  Leighton,  Bart. 


TO  ALL  WHO  HOLD  DEAR  THE 
MEMORY  OF  FREDERIC  LEIGHTON 
THIS  BOOK  IS  INSCRIBED  WITH 
THE  AUTHOR'S  APOLOGIES  FOR 
ITS     VERY     MANY    SHORTCOMINGS 


PREFACE 

Ten  years  and  more  have  passed  since  Leighton  died,  yet 
it  is  still  difficult  to  get  sufficiently  far  away,  to  take  in  the 
whole  of  his  life  and  being  in  their  just  proportion  to  the 
world  in  which  he  lived. 

When  we  are  in  Rome,  hemmed  in  by  narrow  streets, 
St.  Peter's  is  invisible  ;  once  across  that  wonderful  Cam- 
pagna  and  mounting  the  slopes  of  Frascati,  there,  like  a 
huge  pearl  gleaming  in  the  light,  rises  the  dome  of  the 
Mother  Church.  As  distance  gives  the  true  relation  between 
a  lofty  building  and  its  suburbs,  so  time  alone  can  decide 
the  height  of  the  pedestal  on  which  to  place  the  great. 

The  day  after  Leighton's  death  Watts  wrote  to  me  : — 

"...  The  loss  to  the  world  is  so  great  that  I  almost 
feel  ashamed  to  let  my  personal  grief  have  so  large  a  place. 

"I  am  glad  you  knew  him  so  well.  I  am  glad  for  any 
one  who  knew  him.  No  one  will  ever  know  such  another, 
alas  1  alas  !  alas  ! 

"I  am  glad  you  have  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  one  of 
the  greatest  men  of  any  time." 

This  is  the  estimate  of  a  great  artist  who  knew  Leighton 
for  forty  years,  and  for  many  of  those  years  enjoyed  daily 
intercourse  with  him. 

A  few  like  Watts  required  no  length  of  time  before 
forming  a  right  estimate  of  Leighton.  They  not  only  knew 
him  to  be  great,  but  knew  why  he  was  great.      Undoubtedly 


viii  PREFACE 

as  a  draughtsman  Leighton  was  unrivalled ;  but  bearing  in 
mind  his  English  contemporaries — Watts,  Millais,  Holman 
Hunt,  Rossetti,  and  Burne-Jones — it  is  not  as  a  painter  that 
even  his  truest  friends  would  claim  for  him  his  right  to  the 
exceptional  position  he  undoubtedly  occupied. 

What  was  it  that  gave  Leighton  this  position?  He 
himself  was  the  very  last  to  claim  it  as  a  right.  His  creed 
and  his  practice  were  ever  to  fight  against  the  weaknesses 
of  his  nature  rather  than  to  rejoice  in  its  strength.  For 
assuredly,  however  strong  the  intellect,  beautiful  the  character, 
brilliant  the  vitality,  and  fine  the  intuitive  instincts,  a  man 
may  yet  have  within  his  nature  foibles  in  common  with  the 
herd.  The  difference  is,  that  in  the  truly  great  the  un- 
worthier  side  of  nature  is  viewed  as  unworthy — is  fought 
against  and  banished  like  the  plague. 

"A  good  man  is  wise,  not  because  all  his  desires  are 
wise,  but  because  his  reasonable  soul  masters  unwise  desires 
and  is  itself  wise. 

"  He  is  courageous,  because  he  knows  when  to  fight,  and 
does  so  under  control  of  reason. 

"  He  is  temperate,  because  his  pluck  and  his  desires  unite 
in  giving  the  first  place  to  the  reasonable  soul ;  and 
finally,  he  is  just,  because  each  principle  is  in  its  place  and 
stops  there." 

In  a  letter  to  his  mother  when  he  was  twenty -three 
Leighton  wrote :  "  I  feel  I  have  of  my  nature  a  very  fair 
share  of  the  hateful  worldly  weakness  of  my  country  people  ; " 
adding,  "  Still,  I  have  found  no  sufficiently  great  advantage 
or  compensation  for  the  tedium  of  going  out."  Again,  three 
years  later,  after  describing  to  his  sister  the  delight  he  felt 
in  the  beauty  he  found  in  Algiers,  he  wrote:  "And  yet 
what  I  have  said  of  my  feelings,  though  literally  true, 
does    not    give    you    an    exactly    true    notion ;    for,    together 


PREFACE  ix 

with,  and  as  it  were  behind,  so  much  pleasurable  emotion, 
there  is  always  that  other  strange  second  man  in  me,  calm, 
observant,  critical,   unmoved,   blas6 — odious ! 

"  He  is  a  shadow  that  walks  with  me,  a  sort  of 
nineteenth-century  canker  of  doubt  and  discretion  ;  it's  very, 
very  seldom  that  I  forget  his  loathsome  presence.  What 
cheering  things   I   find  to  say ! " 

Doubtless  Leighton  had  within  him  the  possibilities  of 
becoming  a  worldling,  and  also  of  becoming  a  cynic.  He 
overrode  and  banished  the  first  as  despicable,  the  second 
as  hideous. 

But  it  is  not  in  the  wisdom  that — Socrates-like — steered 
his  life  by  reason,  that  we  find  the  adequate  answer  to  the 
question,  "Why  was  Leighton  the  prominent  entity  he 
was?"  Diverse  as  were  his  natural  gifts  and  his  power 
of  achievement  on  various  lines,  he  differed  radically  from 
that  modern  development — the  all-round  man,  who  has  no 
concentrated  fire  as  a  centre  to  illumine  his  life,  but  de- 
velops all  his  capacities  so  that  they  shall  shine  forth  equally 
on  certain  high  levels.  From  childhood  Leighton  had  one 
overriding  passion,  and  from  this  sprang  the  will-force  and 
vitality  which  throughout  his  life  succeeded  in  bringing  his 
intentions  to  fruition.  Whatsoever  his  hand  found  worthy 
to  do  at  all,  he  did  with  the  whole  might  of  his  great  nature. 
Still  even  that  would  not  adequately  answer  the  question. 
His  greatness  truly  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  choice  he  made 
of  what  was  worth  doing  was  never  limited  by  personal 
interests.  He  impelled  the  force  of  his  powers  for  the 
welfare  of  others,  and  for  the  causes  beneficial  to  others,  as 
much  or  more  than  to  those  matters  which  concerned  him- 
self alone.  Hence  his  true  greatness  and  his  great  f^ime — 
for   i^schylus   is  right:    "The  good   will  prevail." 

A    sense    of    duty — "the    keenest    possible    sense    of    it," 


X  PREFACE 

to  use  Mr.  Briton  Riviere's  words — which  was  the  keynote 
of  all  Leighton's  actions,  was  impelled  in  the  first  instance 
by  a  feeling  of  gratitude  for  the  joy  with  which  beauty  in 
nature  and  art  had  steeped  his  being  from  a  child  ;  a  deep 
well  of  happiness,  a  constant  companion,  ever  springing  up 
in  his  heart,  which  he  craved  that  others  should  share  with 
him.  This  happiness  gave  sweetness  to  his  life,  lovableness 
to  his  character,  irresistible  power  to  his  control.  Leighton's 
was  truly  a  life  of  praise  and  gratitude  for  the  joys  nature 
had  bestowed  on  him.  He  had  a  pleasant  way  of  making 
the  truth  prevail.  The  description  by  Marcus  Aurelius  of 
his  "third  man"  applies  well  to  the  character  of  Leigh  ton. 

"  One  man,  when  he  has  done  a  service  to  another,  is 
ready  to  set  it  down  to  his  account  as  a  favour  conferred. 
Another  is  not  ready  to  do  this,  but  still  in  his  own  mind 
he  thinks  of  the  man  as  his  debtor,  and  he  knows  what  he 
has  done.  A  third  in  a  manner  does  not  even  know  what  he 
has  done,  but  he  is  like  a  vine  which  has  produced  grapes, 
and  seeks  for  nothing  more  after  it  has  once  produced  its 
proper  fruit.  As  a  horse  when  he  has  run,  a  dog  when  he 
has  tracked  the  game,  a  bee  when  it  has  made  the  honey, 
so  a  man,  when  he  has  done  a  good  act,  does  not  call  out 
for  others  to  come  and  see,  but  he  goes  on  to  another  act,  as 
a  vine  goes  on  to  produce  again  the  grapes  in  season." 

Leighton's  work  in  every  direction  was  complete  work, 
because  his  mind  grasped  completely  the  proportion  and 
aspect  of  everything  he  undertook.  His  inborn  affection  for, 
and  sympathy  with,  his  fellow-creatures  impelled  him  to  feel 
that  the  area  of  self-interest,  however  gifted  that  self  might 
be,  was  too  restricted  for  him  to  find  full  completeness  therein. 
This  could  only  be  attained  by  working  with  and  for  others. 
Such  feelings  and  doctrines  are  common  in  religious  and 
philanthropic  men  ;  but  in  the  ego  of  the  modern  artist  there 


PREFACE 


XI 


is  generally  something  which  seems  to  demand  a  concentra- 
tion of  attention  on  his  own  ego  in  order  to  develop  his  gifts 
as  an  artist.  The  attitude  of  Leighton  towards  his  own 
work,  and  towards  that  of  others,  was  essentially  contrary 
to  this  concentration. 

In  his  letters  to  his  mother,  and  to  his  master,  Eduard 
von  Steinle,  are  found  the  bases  on  which  the  superstructure 
of  his  after  career  rested,  the  underpinning  of  that  monumental 
feature  of  the  Victorian  era — namely,  in  unflagging  industry, 
in  ever  striving  to  make  his  life  worthy  of  the  beauty  and 
dignity  of  his  vocation  as  an  artist,  and  in  ever  endeavouring 
to  make  his  work  an  adequate  exponent  of  "  the  mysterious 
treasure  that  was  laid  up  in  his  heart "  :  his  passion  for  beauty. 

In  my  attempt  to  write  Leighton's  life  I  have  purposely 
devoted  more  space  to  the  earlier  than  to  the  later  years 
of  his  career  as  an  artist.  With  an  artist  more  than  with 
others  is  it  specially  true  that  the  boy  is  father  to  the  man  ; 
and  if  Leighton's  example  is  in  any  way  to  benefit  students 
of  art,  the  early  struggles,  the  failures,  more  even  than  the 
successes,  will  teach  the  lesson  that  there  is  no  short  cut  on 
the  road  which  has  to  be  travelled  even  by  the  most  gifted. 
From  the  family  letters  and  those  to  his  master,  which 
are,  with  a  few  exceptions,  given  in  full,  it  will  also  be 
seen  that,  however  high  was  the  pedestal  on  which  Leighton 
placed  his  mistress  Art,  he  felt  keenly  likewise  the  beauty  of 
his  family  relationships,  and  a  deep,  grateful  affection  for  the 
master  who  had  given  him  his  start  on  the  road  to  fame. 

If  this  endeavour  to  present  a  true  picture  of  Leighton 
the  man  has  any  value,  it  is  owing  mainly  to  the  fact  that 
Mrs.  Matthews  has  placed  at  my  disposal  the  family  and 
other  letters  in  her  possession, — an  act  which  demands  the 
thanks  of  all  those  who  are  interested  in  the  fame  of  her 
brother. 


xii  PREFACE 

I  also  wish  to  acknowledge  with  gratitude  the  considerate 
kindness  of  several  of  Leighton's  friends  in  contributing 
"notes"  and  letters,  which  are  of  true  value  in  bringing 
before  the  public  a  right  view  of  the  man  and  of  the  artist. 
First  and  foremost  among  these  contributors  must  be  placed 
Dr.  von  Steinle,  son  of  Professor  Eduard  von  Steinle  of 
Frankfort-on-Main,  the  beloved  master  to  whom  Leighton  in 
1879  referred  as  ''the  indelible  seal,''  when  writing  of  those 
who  had  influenced  him  most  for  good.  The  first  letter  of 
the  correspondence  which  was  carried  on  between  the  master 
and  pupil,  and  preserved  preciously  by  each,  is  dated  August 
31,  1852,  the  last  1883.  Only  second  in  interest  to  this 
correspondence,  which  discloses  Leighton's  intimate  feelings 
and  aspirations  as  an  artist,  are  the  notes  supplied  by  Mr. 
Briton  Riviere,  R.A.  —  notes  which  could  only  have  been 
written  by  one  whose  own  nature  in  many  ways  was  closely 
attuned  to  that  of  Leighton's,  and  which  give  the  intimate 
aspect  of  Leighton  as  an  official.  "  It  would  be  difficult 
for  any  one,"  writes  Mr.  Briton  Riviere,  "  to  give  in  a  short 
space  any  adequate  account  of  a  character  so  full  and  com- 
plex as  Leighton's."  And  indeed  it  would  require  a  great 
deal  more  than  two  volumes  even  to  touch  on  all  the 
events  of  this  eventful  life,  which  might  further  illustrate 
Leighton's  character ;  but  Mr.  Briton  Riviere  has  noted 
certain  salient  characteristics  of  his  friend  with  a  sympathy, 
and  a  fine  touch,  which  I  think  will  prove  of  very  rare 
interest  in  this  record.  The  tribute  to  Leighton  of  Mr. 
Hamo  Thornycroft,  R.A,  (from  a  sculptor's  point  of  view), 
carries  great  weight,  and  gives  also,  as  does  that  of  another 
old  comrade  in  the  Artists  Volunteer  Corps,  an  appreciative 
account  of  Leighton  as  the  soldier.  To  these,  to  Lady 
Loch,  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Alfred  Sartoris,  Sir  William  Rich- 
mond,  R.A.,   Mr.  Walter  Crane,   Mr.  Alfred  East,   P.R.B.A., 


PREFACE 


Xlll 


I  offer  my  thanks  for  so  kindly  contributing  notes  which 
help  to  solve  the  problems  presented  by  "a  character  so 
full  and  so  complex."  For  courteous  permission  to  publish 
letters  I  wish  to  express  my  thanks  to  Alice,  Countess  of 
Strafford,  the  executor  of  Mr.  Henry  Greville,  who  was 
one  of,  if  not  the  most  intimate  of  the  friends  who  loved 
Leighton  ;  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Leigh,  Mrs.  Fanny  Kemble's 
daughter  and  executor ;  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Charles  Dilke, 
executor  of  Mrs.  Mark  Pattison  (afterwards  Lady  Dilke)  ;  the 
Right  Hon.  John  Morley,  Dr.  von  Steinle,  Mr.  John  Hanson 
Walker,  Mr.  Cartwright,  Mr.  Robert  Barrett  Browning,  Pro- 
fessor Church,  Mr.  T.  C.  Horsfall,  and  Mrs.  Street,  daughter 
of  the  late  Mr.  Henry  Wells,  R.A. ;  the  executor  of  George 
Eliot,  Mrs.  Charles  Lewes;  and  the  executors  of  John  Ruskin. 
There  are  many  other  letters  and  notes  of  interest  which  have 
been  preserved  by  Mrs.  Matthews,  but  which  cannot  be  inserted 
for  want  of  space.  Among  these  are  affectionate  notes  from 
Joachim,  Burne- Jones,  Hebert,  Robert  Fleury,  Meissonier, 
Gerome,  Tullio  Massarani ;  also  friendly  letters  from  Cardinal 
Manning,  Viscount  Wolseley,  Sarah  Bernhardt,  John  Tyndall, 
Froude,  Anthony  Trollope,  Sir  John  Gilbert,  Lady  Water- 
ford,  and  Lord  Strangford.  A  number  of  letters  exist  from 
members  of  the  Royal  Family  to  Leighton,  all  evincing  alike 
admiration  for  the  artist  and  an  affectionate  appreciation  of 
the  man. 

In  these  pages  there  will  be  found  a  repetition  of 
several  sentences.  This  is  intentional.  Watts  would  often 
remark,  "  A  really  wise  and  true  saying  can't  be  repeated 
too  often "  ;  and  in  Leighton's  letters  are  several  tallying 
with  this  description,  which  it  would  be  a  pity  to  detach 
from  their  own  context,  and  yet  which  are  also  required 
elsewhere  to  enforce  the  argument. 

As  regards  the   kindness  shown  in  allowing  reproductions 


XIV 


PREFACE 


of  pictures,  I  have  to  tender  my  loyal  gratitude  to  the 
Queen  for  the  gracious  loan  of  the  picture  presented  to 
her  Majesty  by  Leighton ;  also  to  the  Prince  of  Wales 
for  allowing  the  "  Head  of  a  Girl,"  given  to  his  Royal 
Highness  as  a  wedding  present  by  the  artist,  to  be  repro- 
duced in  these  pages. 

Other  owners  of  pictures  to  whom  I  proffer  also  my 
warm  thanks  are  Lord  Armstrong,  Lord  Pirrie,  the  Rt.  Hon. 
Joseph  Chamberlain,  the  Hon.  Lady  Leighton  Warren,  Sir 
Bryan  Leighton,  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Sartoris,  Sir  Elliot  Lees,  Sir 
Alexander  Henderson,  Mr.  E.  and  Miss  I'Anson,  Mr.  S.  Pepys 
Cockerell,  Mr.  T.  Blake  Wirgman,  Mrs.  Stewart  Hodgson, 
Mr.  Hanson  Walker,  Mrs.  Henry  Joachim,  Mrs.  Stephenson 
Clarke,  Mrs.  C.  E.  Lees,  Mrs.  James  Watney,  Mr.  Hodges, 
Mrs.  Charles  Lewes,  Mr.  H.  S.  Mendelssohn,  Mr.  Phillipson, 
and  Dr.  von  Steinle. 

Also  to  the  Fine  Art  Society,  the  Berlin  Photographic 
Co.,  Messrs.  Agnew  &  Son,  Messrs.  P.  &  D.  Colnaghi, 
Messrs.  Henry  Graves,  Messrs.  Lefevre,  Messrs.  Smith, 
Elder,  &  Co.,  and  the  directors  of  the  Leicester  Galleries. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION , 


CHAPTER   I 
ANTECEDENTS  AND  SCHOOL  DAYS,  1830-1852 34 

CHAPTER   II 
ROME,  1852-1855 91 

CHAPTER   III 

PENCIL  DRAWINGS  OF  PLANTS  AND  FLOWERS,  1850-1860  .        .     197 

CHAPTER   IV 

WATTS— SUCCESS-FAILURE,  1855-1856 222 

CHAPTER   V 
FRIENDS 250 

CHAPTER    VI 

STEINLE    AND    ITALY   AGAIN— FIRST   IMPRESSIONS    OF    THE 

EAST,  1856-1858 278 


VOL.  I. 


XV  Jf 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

VOLUME   I 

I.  Design  for  Reverse  of  the  Jubilee  Medallion       .       .  Cover 

Executed  for  He7-  Majesty  Queen  Victoria's  Government,  1887. 


» 


2.  Crown  of  Bay  Leaves 

From  Drawing  made  by  Lord  Leighton  at  the  Bagui  de  Lucca,  1854. 

3.  Portrait  of  Lord  Leighton  by  G.  F.  Watts,  about  1863  "\        ™    , 

'  -^   I  To  face 

By  kind  permission  of  the  Hon.   Lady  Leighton-Warri;n  a7id  Sir  j       Tlgdicitiott 
Bryan  Leighton,  Bart.     {Photogravure)  J 

4.  Head  of  Young  Girl To  face  page  i 

By  the  gracious  permission  ofYlKK  Majesty  the  Queen. 

5.  Portraits    of    Lord   Leighton's    Father    and    Mother 

when  Young „       .,      17 

From  Miniatures. 

6.  Early    Painting    of    Boy    Saving    a    Baby     from    the 

Clutches  of  an  Eagle    {Colour) „       ,,19 

7.  Portrait  of  Professor  Eduard  von  Steinle     .        .        .      „       .,27 

By  kind  permission  of  his  Son,  Doctor  von  Steinle. 

8.  Portrait  of  Mrs.  Sartoris,  1856 „       „      28 

9.  Crypt  under   St.  Paul's  Cathedral  where  Barry,   Sir 

Joshua  Reynolds,  Turner,  and  Lord  Leighton  were 

Buried ,,       ■,      ii 

10.  Portraits  of  Lord  Leighton  and  his  Younger  Sister, 

Mrs.  Matthews ,y        y,      2>7 

Drawn  by  him  when  a  boy. 

xvii  # 


XVlll 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


11.  Early  Comic  Drawing  made  in  Frankfurt 

By  kind  permission  of  Mr.  John  Hanson  Walkep. 

12.  Portrait  of  Mr.  I'Anson,  Lord  Leighton's  Great-uncle, 

1850 

By  kind  permission  o/Mi.  E.  and  Miss  I'Anson. 

13.  The  Death  of  Brunelleschi,  1851 

By  kind  permission  (?/ Doctor  von  Sieinlf. 

14.  The  Plague  in  Florence,  1851 

15.  Studies  of  Branches  of  Fig  and  Bramble 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

16.  Study  of  Byzantine  Well  Head,  Venice,  1852  . 

By  kind  permission  o/Mr.  S.  Pepys  Cockereli.. 

17.  From  Pencil  Drawing  of  Model,  Rome,  1853.    "Costume 

Di  Procida  " 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

iS.  Head  of  Model  used  for  Figure  in  Cimabue's  Madonna, 
erroneously  stated  to  have  been  the  Portrait  of 
Lord  Leighton,  1853 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

19.  Sketch  of  Subiaco,  1853 

Leiphton  House  Collection. 


To  face  page  43 


48 

55 

56 
69 

81 
98 


112 


116 


20.  Head  of  Vincenzo,  1854    .        .        .       .        . 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

21.  Copy  in  Pencil  of  the  Portraits  of  Giotto,  Cimabue, 

Memmi,  and  Taddeo  Gaddi 

From  the  Capella  Spagniola,   Sta.    Maria  Novella,  Florence,   1S53. 
Leighton  House  Collection. 

22.  Study  of  Woman's  Head  for  Figure  at  the  Window — 

Cimabue's  Madonna,  1854    {Pho(og}-avu?-e) 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

23.  Original    Sketch    in    Pencil    and  Chinese  White   for 

Cimabue's  Madonna,  1853 

Leighton  Hozise  Collection. 


15^ 


138 


US 


149 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS  xix 

24.  CiMABUE's  Madonna,  1855 To  face  page  193 

By  kind  permission  of  the  Fine  Art  Society. 

25.  Facsimile    of    Letter    from     Sir    Charles    Eastlake, 

announcing   that    queen    victoria    had    purchased 

CiMABUE's  Madonna,  May  3,  1855 „        „     194 

26.  Study  of  Cyclamen,  1856 »       „    200 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

27.  Wreath  of  Bay  Leaves,  1854. „        „    201 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

28.  Study  of  a  Lemon  Tree— Capri,  1859 „        ,,202 

By  kind  permission  ofViX.  S.  Pepys  Cockerell. 

29.  Study  of  Branches  of  a  Deciduous  Tree         .        .        .      „       „    202 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

30.  Early    Studies    of    Kalmia    latifolia,    Oleander,    and 

Rhododendron  Flowers „       „    205 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

31.  Studies  of  Pumpkin  Flowers »       »    206 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

32.  Study  of  Vine,  1854 — Bagni  di  Lucca  ....„„    2c6 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

33.  Studies  of  Vine  Leaves,  "  Bellosguardo,"  Sept.  1856     .      „       „    207 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

34.  "Ariadne    Abandoned    by    Theseus— Death    Releases 

HER."     1868     {Photogravure) „         »     211 

By  kind  permission  o/'Lord  Pikrie. 

35.  "Elisha  Raising  the  Son  of  the  Shunammite,"  1S81       .      „        „    211 

{Photogravtire) 

36.  "  D^DALUS  and  Icarus,"   1869     {Photogravure)        .         .         ■       „         ,,     2ii 

By  kind  permission  of  Sir  ALEXANDER  HENDERSON,  Bart. 

37.  "Captive  Andromache,"  1888    {Photogravure)       .        .        •      ,,        „    213 

By  kind  permission  of  the  Berlin  Photographic  Co. 

38.  Study  in  Oils  for  "Captive  Andromache"    {Colour)        .      „ 

By  kind  permission  of  Mrs.  Stewart  Hodgson 


213 


39.  "Weaving  the  Wreath,"  1873 v        »    214 


XX 

40. 

41. 

A2. 

43- 

44- 

45- 
46. 

47- 
48. 

49- 
5o, 

5-- 


LIST    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Winding  the  Skein  " 

By  Jzind permission  of  the  FiNE  Art  SOCIETY. 


To  face  page  214 


"  The  Music  Lesson,"  1877 

By  kind  permission  of  the  Vi^K  Art  Society. 

Studies  of  Sea  Thistle,  Malinmore 

From  Sketch  Book,  1895. 

Studies  of  Sea  Thistle,  Malinmore 

From  Sketch  Book,  1895. 

"Return  of  Persephone"    {Photogravure)    .... 

Corporation  of  Leeds. 

Study  in  Oils  for  "Return  of  Persephone"    {Colour)  . 
By  kind  permission  (j/Mrs.  Stewart  Hodgson 

From   Decorative  Painting  on    Gold    Background   of 
Cupid  with  Doves 

"Idyll,"  1881     {Photogravure) 

Portrait  of  Miss  Mabel  Mills,  1877 

"Venus  Disrobing  for  the  Bath,"~  1867       .... 

Figures  for  Ceiling  for  a  Music  Room. 

Phrvne  at  Eleusis,   1882 

Portrait  of  Mrs.  Adelaide  Sartoris,  drawn   for  her 

Friend,  Lady  Bloomfield,  1867 

By  kind  permission  of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Sartoris. 

Study  for   Portion  of  Frieze,   "Music"  (not  carried 
out  in  final  design).    1883 

LeirhtoH  House  Collection. 


53.  From  Sketch  in  Water  Colour  for  Tableaux  Vivants, 

"The  Echoes  of  Hellas"    {Colour)  .       .        .        . 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

54.  Study  from    Mr.  John    Hanson  Walker,  when   a   boy, 

for  "  Lieder  ohne  Wokte,"  i860 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

55.  Portrait  of   Mrs.  John  Hanson  Walker,   Painted    as 

A  Wedding  Present  to  her  Husband,  1867    {Colour)    . 
By  kind  permission  of  Mr.  Walker. 


214 
218 
218 
221 
221 

223 
229 
229 
230 

230 

234 
241 

251 

273 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS  xxl 

56.  Figures    for    Ceiling    for    Music    Room,    previous    to 

THE  Drapery  being  added,  1886        ....       To  face  page  276 

57.  Original  Sketch  in  Charcoal  of  Dancing  Figures  for 

the  same,  1886 „        „    276 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

58.  Water  Colour  Drawing  of  the  Ca'  d'Oro,  Venice        .      „       „    285 

{Colour) 

59.  View  in  Algiers    {Colour) >,        »    299 

60.  View  in  Algiers    {Colour) „        ,,301 

61.  Sketch  for  "  Salome,  the  Daughter  of  Herodias,"  1857      „       „    308 

Leighton  House  Collection. 

62.  Sixteen     Scenes    in      Florence  —  Illustrations     to 

"Romola" Beginning  page  310 

By  kind  permission  of  ^ts.  Charles  Lewes. 

1.  Blind  Scholar  and  Daughter. 

2.  "Suppose  You  let  me  look  at  Myself;"  Nello's  Shop. 

5.  "The  First  Key." 

6.  Peasants'  Fair. 

7.  The  Dying  Message. 

8.  Florentine  Joke. 

9.  The  Escaped  Prisoner. 

10.  NiccoLo  AT  Work. 

11.  "You  didn't  Think." 

13.  "Father,  I  will  be  Guided." 

15.  The  Visible  Madonna. 

16.  Dangerous  Colleagues. 

17.  "  Monna  Brigida." 

18.  "But  You  will  Help." 

20.  "  Drifting." 

21.  "Will  his  Eyes  Open?" 


i-j      ...I'ViC 


HEAD  PRESENTED  TO  THE  QUEEN  BY  LORD  LEIGHTON 
By  permission  of  Her  Majesty  the  Queen 


THE    LIFE    OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 


warmth,    sincerity,   and   zeal   for  his  special  vocation,  that  his 
influence  as  an  official  was  never  deadened  by  theoretic  red- 
tapeism,    nor    by    secondary    or   side    issues.       Leighton    ever 
VOL.  L  ^ 


ERRATA 

Page    67,  line  ^i,  for  "unscorched,"  read  "  sunscorched." 
»     I03)    ))    2,'^,  for  "worse  that,"  read  "worse  than." 
»     169,    „      8, /<?r  "  Pantaleoni,"  m?^  "  Pantaleone." 
„     213,  lines  6,  7,  >r  "owing  .  .  .  from,"  read  "owing  .  .  .  to." 
„     265,  note.      The   reference   number   should  be  to    "  Edward,' 

instead  of  to  "Adelaide." 
„     296,  line  17,  for  "  Couture,"  read  "  Conture." 


Leighton — Vol.  I. 


lEAD  PRESENTED  TO  THE  QUEEN  BY  LORD  LEIGHTON 
By  permission  of  Her  Majesty  the  Queen 


THE    LIFE    OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 


INTRODUCTION 

In  i860,  when  Leighton,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  definitely  settled 
in  England,  art  was  alive  in  two  distinctly  new  directions. 
Ruskin  was  writing,  the  Pre-Raphaelites  were  painting,  and 
Prince  Albert,  besides  encouraging  individual  painters  and 
sculptors,  had,  through  his  fine  taste  and  the  exercise  of  his 
patronage  in  every  branch  of  art,  developed  an  interest  in  good 
desiorn  as  it  can  be  carried  out  in  manufactures  and  various 
crafts.  Leighton  followed  the  Prince  Consort's  initiatory  lead  ; 
and,  by  showing  the  same  cultured  and  catholic  zeal  in  her 
welfare,  was  enabled  to  continue  and  develop  Prince  Albert's 
important  work,  thereby  widening  and  elevating  the  whole 
outlook  of  art  in   England. 

It  has  at  times  been  asserted  that  Leighton  was  greater 
as  a  President  of  the  Royal  Academy  than  he  was  as  a  painter. 
It  would  be  truer,  I  think,  to  say  that  it  was  because  he  was 
so  great  as  an  artist  in  the  highest,  widest  meaning  of  the 
word,  so  sincere  a  workman,  that  he  stands  unrivalled  as  a 
President.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  dated  May^  1888,  ten  years 
after  he  had  been  elected  President,  he  wrote,  "I  am  a  work- 
man first  and  an  official  afterwards,"  and  it  was,  I  believe, 
because  he  carried  into  his  official  duties  the  true  artist's 
warmth,  sincerity,  and  zeal  for  his  special  vocation,  that  his 
influence  as  an  official  was  never  deadened  by  theoretic  red- 
tapeism,    nor   by    secondary    or   side    issues.       Leighton    ever 

VOL.  I.  A 


2  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

flew  straight  to  the  mark,  and  the  mark  he  aimed  at  in  his 
presidential  work  was  ever  the  highest  essential  point  from 
the  view  he  also  took  as  an  artist.  His  official  duties,  carried 
out  with  so  great  an  amount  of  scrupulous  conscientiousness, 
would  have  gone  far  to  fill  the  entire  life  of  an  ordinary  human 
being  ;  yet  these  duties  were,  to  the  last,  subordinated  in  his 
personal  existence  to  his  self-imposed  duties  as  a  painter  and 
a  sculptor. 

The  words,  "  I  am  a  workman  first  and  an  official  after- 
wards," epitomise  the  creed  of  his  life.  From  earliest  child- 
hood art  had  cast  over  Leighton's  nature  a  glamour  which 
made  his  heart-service  to  her  the  great  passion  of  his  life. 
His  "great  nature"  had  in  it  many  sources  of  stirring  interest 
and  of  pure  delights,  which  he  enjoyed  keenly  ;  but  nothing 
came  in  sight,  so  to  speak,  which  ever  for  a  moment  seriously 
challenged  a  rivalry  with  the  salient  ruling  passion.  His 
character,  as  it  developed,  wound  itself  round  it ;  his  strongest 
sense  of  duty  focalised  itself  in  its  service  ;  his  ambition  ever 
was  more  inspired  and  stimulated  by  a  devotion  to  the  best 
interests  of  art  than  by  any  purely  personal  incentive.  Leighton 
was  an  artist  of  that  true  type  in  whom  no  influence  whatsoever 
can  deter  or  slacken  incessant  zeal  for  work.  In  the  deepest 
recesses  of  his  nature  burnt  the  unquenchable  fire,  the  paramount 
longing  to  follow  in  Nature's  footsteps,  and  to  create  things  of 
beauty.  Among  the  many  loyal  servants  who  have  dutifully 
worshipped  at  the  shrine  of  art,  never  was  there  one  who  more 
completely  devoted  the  best  that  was  in  him  to  her  service. 

"  Va !  your  human  talk  and  doings  are  a  tame  jest ;  the 
only  passionate  life  is  in  form  and  colour."^ 

Leighton's  nature  may  be  viewed  from  three  aspects. 
Though  each  aspect  is  apparently  detached  from  the  others, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  record  a  true  portrait  were  the  three 
not  kept  in  view  while  attempting  to  draw  the  picture. 

^.George  Eliot — "  Romola." 


INTRODUCTION  3 

First,  there  was  Leighton,  the  great  man,  the  pubHc  ser- 
vant, gifted  with  exceptional  powers  of  intellect  and  character, 
who  attained  the  highest  social  position  ever  reached  by  an 
English  artist ;  the  Leighton  the  world  knew,  whose  sway  was 
paramount  in  the  many  councils  and  assemblies  to  which  he 
belonged  no  less  than  when  fulfilling  his  duties  as  President 
of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  whose  helpfulness  and  zeal  in 
promoting  the  extension  of  a  knowledge  and  appreciation  of 
English  art  in  foreign  countries  and  in  the  colonies  became 
proverbial.  Lady  Loch  tells  of  his  invaluable  help  in  the 
efforts  she  and  her  husband  made  to  encourage  art,  while  the 
late  Lord  Loch  was  Governor  of  the  Isle  of  Man,  of  Victoria, 
and  of  Cape  Colony.  "  I  feel  it  would  be  impossible,"  she 
writes,  "  to  convey  in  a  few  words  what  a  wonderful  friend 
Frederic  Leighton  was  to  my  husband  from  the  time  he  first 
knew  him,^  forty  years  before  Leighton's  death,  and  to  myself 
from  the  time  we  married.  He  was  always  ready  to  help  us 
at  every  turn.  Any  deserving  artist  whom  we  sent  to  him 
would  be  certain  to  find  in  him  a  friend.  When  we  arranged 
the  very  small  Art  Exhibition  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  you  could 
hardly  imagine  with  what  energy  and  thoughtfulness  he  entered 
into  the  matter,  impressing  upon  us  all  the  steps  that  we  ought 
to  take  in  order  to  secure  its  success,  even  to  the  details,  such 
as  packing  and  insuring  the  pictures.  He  himself  sent  us 
pictures  for  the  Exhibition,  and  guided  our  judgment  in  admir- 
ing and  caring  for  those  which  were  best  and  most  to  be  valued, 
with  a  paternal  care  and  zeal  not  describable.  Again,  when 
we  were  in  Australia,  and  the  great  International  Centennial 
Exhibition  in  Melbourne  took  place  in  1888,  Frederic  Leighton 
selected  such  a  good  collection  of  pictures  that  they  simply  were 
the  saving  of  the  Exhibition  financially — they  attracted  such 
continuous  crowds  of  visitors.     Subsequently,  when  an  exhibition 

1  Lord  Loch's  cousin,  Colonel  Sutherland  Orr,  married  Leighton's  elder  sister  in 
the  year  1857. 


4  THE    LIFE    OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

of  ceramic  work  was  asked  for  in  Melbourne,  and  Henry  Loch 
wrote  to  consult  his  friend,  amidst  all  Frederic  Leighton's 
important  work  and  duties,  he  rushed  about  and  secured  a 
most  interesting  collection  of  all  kinds  of  china  and  pottery, 
which  was  greatly  appreciated  by  the  Australians.  Again,  in 
1892,  he  formed  a  Fine  Art  Committee,  consisting  of  himself, 
who  was  appointed  Chairman,  Sir  Charles  Mills,  Sir  Donald 
Currie,  M.P.,  Mr.  W.  W.  Ouless,  R.A.,  Mr.  Colin  Hunter, 
A.R.A.,  Mr.  Frank  Walton,  and  Mr.  Prange,  to  select  pictures 
to  send  for  exhibition  at  Kimberley.  Besides  a  picture  lent 
by  Queen  Victoria,  at  Leighton's  request,  of  the  portraits  of 
herself  and  the  royal  family  by  Winterhalter,  and  four  by 
Leighton,  which  he  lent,  the  Committee  secured  181  pictures, 
though  not  without  great  difficulty,  Leighton  told  us,  because 
the  artists  were  afraid  their  works  would  be  injured  by  the 
burning  sun,  the  sandstorms,  and  the  rough  journey  up  from 
the  Cape.  Owing,  however,  to  Leighton's  untiring  exertions, 
a  very  interesting  and  successful  exhibition  took  place  in  this 
then  little  known  town  of  our   English  colony  in  Africa." 

On  the  day  Leighton  died,  Watts,  his  near  neighbour  and 
fellow-workman,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  wrote  that  he  had 
enjoyed  "  an  uninterrupted  and  affectionate  friendship  of 
five-and-forty  years"  with  Leighton.  He  continues:  "No 
one  will  ever  know  such  another.  A  magnificent  intellectual 
capacity,  an  unerring  and  instantaneous  spring  upon  the  point 
to  unravel,  a  generosity,  a  sympathy,  a  tact,  a  lovable  and 
sweet  reasonableness,  yet  no  weakness.  For  my  own  part — 
and  I  tell  you,  life  can  never  be  the  same  to  me  again — 
my  own  grief  is  merged  in  the  sense  I  have  of  the  appalling 
loss  to  the  nation;  it  seems  to  me  to  be  no  less."^  Later, 
Watts  wished  it  recorded  that  Leighton's  character  was  the 
most  beautiful  he  had  ever  known.  This  tribute  from  the 
great  veteran  artist,  thirteen  years   Leighton's  senior,  but  who 

1  Quoted  in  G.  F.  Watts'  "  Reminiscences." 


INTRODUCTION  5 

outlived  him  more  than  eight  years,  was  echoed  far  and  wide 
by  many  at  the  time  of  Leighton's  death.  To  his  powers  and 
influence,  exercised  in  the  Royal  Academy  as  a  body  and  to 
the  members  individually,  Mr.  Briton  Riviere,  the  painter, 
and  Mr.  Hamo  Thornycroft,  the  sculptor,  give  the  following 
appreciative  tributes. 

Mr.  Briton  Riviere  writes  :— 

"  To  begin  with.  I  never  really  knew  him — though  we  had 
met  several  times  before — unti,l  I  began  to  serve  upon  the 
Council  with  him  very  soon  after  his  election  as  President. 
This  at  once  brought  us  into  very  intimate  relations,  and 
a  very  few  meetings  convinced  me  that  his  opinions  and 
actions  on  that  body  were  invariably  regulated  by  a  true 
spirit  of  absolute  justice  and  fairness  to  all,  and  that  if  he 
had  his  own  particular  art  beliefs — which  he  certainly  had, 
for  art  was  to  him  almost  a  religion,  and  his  own  particular 
belief  almost  a  creed — he  never  allowed  it  to  bias  him  in 
the  least.  Indeed,  I  have  never  worked  with  any  one  who 
exhibited  a  broader  or  more  catholic  spirit  of  tolerance,  even 
sympathy  with  all  schools,  however  diverse  from  his  own, 
only  demanding  honesty  and  sincerity  should  be  the  basis 
of  each   kind  of  work. 

"  I  have  always  felt  that  no  one,  who  had  heard  only 
his  elaborately  prepared  speeches,  knew  his  real  power  as 
a  speaker. 

"  He  was  a  master  of  time.  I  do  not  think  he  ever 
failed  to  keep  an  appointment  almost  to  the  minute.  He 
was  seldom  much  too  early,  but  never  too  late. 

"He  was  an  ideal  president  for  any  institution,  and  after 
serving  under  him  for  many  years,  I  cannot  think  of  any  one 
faculty  which  a  president  should  possess,  which  Leighton 
wanted." 

Mr.   Hamo  Thornycroft  writes  : — 

"My  earliest  recollection  of  Leighton  was  in   1869,  when. 


6  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

with  several  other  young  art  students,  I  went  to  his  studio. 
He  had  promised  to  criticise  the  designs  we  had  made  from 
Morris'  '  Life  and  Death  of  Jason.'  This  he  did  most 
admirably,  it  seemed  to  me,  and  most  sympathetically, 
devoting  considerable  time  to  each  ;  and  I  came  away 
encouraged  and  a  sworn  devotee  of  the  great  man. 

"  For  the  next  few  years,  I  had  the  benefit  of  his  teaching 
at  the  Academy  Schools,  where  he  was  most  energetic  as  a 
visitor,  and  took  the  greatest  pains  to  help  the  students.  He 
w^as,  moreover,  an  inspiring  master.  Besides  doing  much  for 
the  school  of  sculpture,  till  then  much  neglected,  he  started 
a  custom  of  giving  a  certain  time  to  the  study  of  drapery 
on  the  living  model.  His  knowledge  in  this  department  and 
his  excellent  method  were  a  new  element  in  the  training  in 
the  schools,  and  soon  had  a  salutary  effect  upon  the  work 
done  by  the  students.  His  influence,  through  the  Academy 
Schools,  upon  the  younger  generation  of  sculptors  was  very 
great.  There  can  be  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  rapid 
advance  made  in  the  art  of  sculpture  during  the  last  thirty 
years  was  to  a  considerable  extent  due  to  the  sympathy 
and  the  interest  which   Leighton  gave  to  it. 

"  Leighton,  as  is  well  known,  carefully  prepared  his  im- 
portant speeches,  like  many  great  speakers  ;  but  I  never  saw 
him  fail,  or  even  hesitate,  when  called  upon  to  speak  un- 
expectedly. At  meetings  of  the  Academy  Council  or  at 
the  general  assemblies,  his  summing  up  and  his  weighing  of 
the  arguments  brought  forward  by  members  in  course  of 
discussion  was  always  masterly,  just  and  eloquent.  He 
had  such  a  great  sense  of  proportion,  and  detected  what 
was  the  essence  and  the  essential  part  of  a  speaker's 
argument." 

At  a  meeting  held  in  Leighton's  studio,  after  his  death  in 
May  1896,  for  the  purpose  of  furthering  the  scheme  of  pre- 
serving the  house  for  the  nation  as  a  memorial  to  the  great 


INTRODUCTION  7 

artist,  the  sculptor,  Mr.  Alfred  Gilbert,  R.A.,  on  rising  to  speak, 
said  he  felt  too  much  on  the  occasion  to  be  able  to  make 
a  speech,  adding,  "  I  can  only  say  that  all  I  know,  and  all 
the  little  I  have  been  able  to  do  as  a  sculptor,  I  owe  to 
Leighton." 

In  a  letter,  dated  February  9,  1896,  Watts  again  writes: 
"  I  delighted  in  shaping  a  splendid  career  of  incalculable  benefit 
to  his  (Leighton's)  epoch.  His  abilities,  his  persuasiveness, 
the  peculiar  range  of  his  cultivation,  would  have  fitted  him  to 
accompany  a  delicate  embassy,  where  his  efficiency  would  have 
been  made  evident,  establishing  a  right  to  be  entrusted  with 
the  like  as  its  head  ;  I  believe  something  of  this  and  more,  if 
there  could  be  more,  was  for  him  in  the  future.  You  know, 
I  always  looked  forward  to  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords. 
That  came  about,  and  I  believe  the  rest  was  but  a  question 
of  time.  Feeling  this,  you  can  understand  that  my  own 
grief  seems  to  me  to  be  selfish,  I  am  glad  you  enjoyed 
the  friendship  of  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  any  time." 

In  the  speech  which  the  King,  then  Prince  of  Wales, 
made  at  the  first  banquet  held  after  Leighton's  death,  on 
May  I,  1897,  His  Majesty  referred  to  the  late  President  in 
the  following  words  : — 

"  All  of  us  in  the  room,  and  I  especially,  must  miss  one 
whose  eloquent  voice  was  so  often  heard  at  this  banquet — a 
voice,  alas!  now  hushed  for  ever.  It  is  unnecessary,  as  it 
would  be  almost  impertinent  in  me,  to  hold  forth  in  praise  of 
the  merits  and  virtues  of  Lord  Leighton.  They  are  known 
to  you  all.  He  has  left  a  great  name  behind  him,  and»  he 
himself  will  be  regretted  not  only  by  the  great  artistic  world, 
but  by  the  whole  nation.  I  myself  had  the  advantage  of 
knowing  him  for  a  great  number  of  years — ever  since  I 
was  a  boy — and  I  need  hardly  say  how  deeply  I  deplore  the 
fact  that  he  can  be  no  more  in  our  midst.  But  his  name 
will  be  cherished  and  honoured  throughout  the  country." 


8  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  more  lengthily  on  this  salient 
aspect  of  Leighton.  During  his  lifetime  it  was  public  property, 
the  great  name  he  has  left  is  evidence  sufficient  to  coming 
generations. 

Secondly,  as  portrayed  chiefly  by  his  human  qualities,  there 
was  the  aspect  of  Leighton  as  his  family  and  his  friends  knew 
him  ;  the  beloved  Leighton,  the  delightful  companion,  the 
charming  personality,  the  being  whose  brilliant  vitality  brought 
a  mental  stimulus  into  all  intercourse  with  him.  The  Leighton 
qui  savait  vivre  perhaps  better  than  did  ever  any  other  con- 
spicuous, overworked  servant  of  the  public  ;  an  active,  positive 
influence,  radiating  strength  and  sunshine  by  his  presence  ;  and 
playing  the  game — whatever  game  it  was — better  than  even  the 
experts  in  special  games.  In  that  which  perhaps  he  played 
best,  lay  his  remarkable  social  power.  Leighton  had  a  deep- 
rooted  and  ingenuous  sincerity  of  nature,  and  never  for  a 
moment  lost  his  self-centre  ;  yet  he  had  the  rare  gift  of  un- 
locking the  side  most  worthy  to  be  unlocked  in  the  nature  of 
his  companion  of  the  moment.  He  had  the  power  of  evolving 
out  of  most  people  he  met  something  that  was  real  and  of 
interest.  Never  giving  himself  away,  he  yet  managed  to 
meet  other  individualities  on  any  ground  that  existed  which 
could  by  any  possibility  be  made  a  mutual  ground.  Though 
generosity  itself  in  believing  the  best  of  every  one,  and  at 
times  entrapped  by  the  wily,  anything  like  flattery  was  a 
vice  in  his  eyes.  He  neither  gave  himself  away,  nor  induced 
others  to  give  themselves  away  while  in  his  company,  and 
would  always  abstain  from  obtruding  his  opinions,  modestly 
withholding  judgment  where  he  saw  neither  a  duty  nor  a 
distinct  reason  to  pronounce. 

Perhaps  the  strongest  mark  of  Leighton's  true  distinction 
lay  in  the  fact  that,  notwithstanding  his  reserve  on  all  matters 
of  deep  feeling,  notwithstanding  his  love  of  form  in  the 
living  of  life    as    in    the    creating  of  art,   notwithstanding   the 


INTRODUCTION  9 

perpetually  shifting  and  urgent  claims  which,  as  a  public  man 
and  a  prominent  social   entity,  were  being  continually  forced 
upon   him,   the   inner  entity,   the   real    Leighton,   remained    to 
the    end  a   child   of  nature.     No   need   was  there   for  him  to 
gauge    the  proportionate  merit  of  the  various    conflicting   in- 
fluences that  played  on  his  complicated  life  ;  his  own  instinctive 
preferences  clenched  the  matter  indubitably,  asserting  that  the 
noblest  grace  and  the  finest  taste  lay  in  the  spontaneous  and 
the  natural.     When  Watts  wished  it  recorded  that  Leighton's 
nature  was  the  most  beautiful  he  had  ever  known,  he  referred, 
I  think,  more  specially  to  that  lovable,  kind-hearted  ingenuous- 
ness   and   noble  simplicity  which  were  its  deepest  roots,   not- 
withstanding a   life   of  conflicts,    ambitions,    and   unparalleled 
success.     There  are  among  those  who  most  honour  and  love 
Leighton's   memory,   and  who  felt  most  keenly  his  loss,  poor 
and  unsuccessful  artists  and  students,  of  whom  the  world  has 
never  heard,    but   to  whom  the  great  President   gave   of  his 
very  best  in  advice  and  sympathy.^     He  never  posed,  though 
he  was  an   adept  in  catching  the  atmosphere   of  a  situation, 

^  An  incident,  one  out  of  many  that  tell  of  Leighton's  hearty,  eager  helpfulness, 
happened  on  one  of  the  evenings  at  the  Academy,  after  the  prizes  had  been  given 
away.  A  student  was  passing  through  the  first  room,  on  his  way  to  the  entrance. 
He  looked  the  picture  of  dejection  and  disappointed  wretchedness,  poorly  and 
shabbily  dressed,  and  slinking  away  as  if  he  wished  to  pass  out  of  the  place 
unnoticed.  Millais  and  Leighton,  walking  arm  in  arm,  came  along,  pictures  of 
prosperity.  Leighton  caught  sight  of  the  poor,  downcast  student.  Leaving  Millais, 
he  darted  across  the  vestibule  to  him,  and,  taking  the  student's  arm,  drew  him  back 
into  the  first  room,  and  made  him  sit  down  on  the  ottoman  beside  him.  Putting  his 
arm  on  the  top  of  the  ottoman,  and  resting  his  head  on  his  hand,  Leighton  began 
to  talk  as  he  alone  could  talk ;  pouring  forth  volumes  of  earnest,  rapid  utterances, 
as  if  everything  in  the  world  depended  on  his  words  conveying  what  he  wanted  them 
to  convey.  He  went  on  and  on.  The  shabby  figure  gradually  seemed  to  pull  itself 
together,  and,  at  last,  when  they  both  rose,  he  seemed  to  have  become  another 
creature.  Leighton  shook  hands  with  him,  and  the  youth  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing.  It  is  certain  that  if  other  help  than  advice  were  needed,  it  was  given. 
But  it  was  the  extraordinary  zest  and  vitality  which  Leighton  put  into  his  help 
which  made  it  unlike  any  other.  He  fought  every  one's  cause  even  better  than 
others  fight  their  own. 


lo  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

however  new  and  foreign  to  his  usual  beat  such  a  situation 
might  be.  Scrupulous  in  his  attitude  of  reverence  towards 
his  vocation  as  an  artist,  ever  most  scrupulous  to  render  unto 
Csesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar's,  the  inner  core  of  the  nature 
remained  simple  and  unstained  by  worldliness. 

Then  there  was  the  third  aspect  of  Leighton,  the  Leighton 
at  times  half-hidden  from  himself;  the  yearning,  unsatisfied 
spirit,  which,  though  subject  at  times  to  great  elevations  of 
delight,  at  others  was  also  the  victim  of  profound  depressions 
and  a  sense  of  loneliness — a  state  of  being  born  out  of  that 
strange,  only  half-explained  region  whence  proceed  all  in- 
tuitive faculties.  Such  states  are  referred  to  occasionally  in 
his  letters  to  his  mother,  and  we  find  their  influence  re- 
corded at  intervals  in  his  art.  In  1849,  on  a  sketch  of  Giotto 
when  a  boy,  are  written  in  the  corner  the  words  "  Sehnsucht"  ; 
in  1865,  there  is  the  David,  "  Oh,  that  I  had  wings  like  a 
dove;  for  then  would  I  fly  away  and  be  at  rest";  in  1894, 
the  "Spirit  of  the  Summit  "—these  are  all  alike  expressions 
of  the  home-sickness  that  yearned  for  an  abiding  resting- 
place  not  found  in  the  conditions  of  this  world.  "Oh,  what 
a  disappointing  world  it  is !  "  were  words  he  uttered  shortly 
before  his  death.  In  1894,  when  at  Bayreuth,  a  friend  was 
congratulating  him  on  his  ever  fortunate  star  having  even 
there  easily  overcome  the  difficulties  of  the  crowd.  Leighton, 
passing  over  the  immediate  question,  answered  with  a  striking 
serious  sadness,  "  I  have  not  ever  got  what  I  most  wanted 
in  this  world." 

No  mind  was  ever  more  explicit  to  itself  in  its  mental  work- 
ing, than  was  his  with  regard  to  matters  which  the  intellect  can 
investigate  and  solve.  His  judgment  could  never  be  warped 
by  reason  of  an  insufficient  brain  apparatus  with  which  to 
judge  himself  and  others  impartially.  But  Leighton  was  a 
great  man,  beyond  being  the  one  who  owned  "a  magnificent 
intellectual  capacity."     The  qualities  he  possessed,  which  made 


INTRODUCTION  1 1 

him  a  prominent  entity  who  influenced  the  interests  of  the 
world  at  large,  secured  for  him  a  footing  on  that  higher  level 
where  human  nature  breathes  a  finer,  more  rarefied  atmosphere 
than  that  in  which  the  intellect  alone  disports  itself;  a  level 
from  which  can  be  viewed  the  just  proportion  existing  between 
the  truly  great  and  the  truly  little.  Selfishness  disappears 
in  a  nature  such  as  Leighton  possessed,  when  that  level  is 
reached.  The  necessity  for  self-sacrifice  forces  itself  so 
peremptorily,  that  there  is  no  struggle  to  be  gone  through 
in  exercising  it.  For  instance— notwithstanding  the  absorbing 
nature  of  his  occupations  and  the  intense  devotion  he  felt 
towards  his  vocation  as  an  artist,  when  it  was  a  question  of 
the  country  needing  a  reserve  force  for  her  army  to  draw  on 
in  case  of  war — a  need  which  is  at  this  present  moment  insisted 
on  by  Lord  Roberts  with  such  zealous  earnestness — Leighton 
at  once  seized  the  importance  of  the  question,  and,  at  whatever 
sacrifice  to  his  own  more  personal  interests,  enlisted  as  a 
volunteer,  and  mastered  the  art  and  duties  of  soldiering  so 
completely  that  many  officers  in  the  regular  army  envied  his 
knowledge  and  efficiency. 

The  following  is  an  appreciation  by  an  old  comrade  in 
the  Artists'  Volunteer  Corps : — 

"The  names  of  those  who  first  enrolled  themselves  to 
form  the  Artists'  Volunteer  Corps  in  i860  is  a  record  of 
considerable  interest  in  itself,  and  calls  back  many  re- 
miniscences connected  with  art.  Leighton  joined  May  10, 
i860,    and    was    in    a    few    days    given    his    commission    as 

ensign. 

"Probably  the  very  character  of  the  first  recruits  tended 
to  prevent  that  expansion  and  accession  of  numbers  without 
which  no  military  body  can  flourish.  Lord  Bury,  the  first 
commandant,  became  the  Colonel  of  the  Civil  Service  Rifles  ; 
and  whatever  attention  may  have  been  given  to  firing  and 
detailed   training,    the    early  appearances    of  the   'Artists'  m 


12  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

public  at  reviews  was,  as  a  rule,  as  a  company  or  two  attached 
to  the  Civil  Service  Rifle  Corps, 

"  Events,  however,  brought  a  change  in  the  command,  and 
Leighton  having,  not  without  hesitation,  accepted  it,  set  himself 
at  once  to  introduce  reforms.  The  Captains,  he  announced, 
were  to  be  responsible  each  for  the  command  and  drill  of 
his  company.  He,  to  carry  out  before  promotion  as  Major 
Commanding  a  duty  which  the  previous  laxity  had  never 
required  of  him,  learned  the  company  drill  by  heart  and  went 
through  the  whole  complicated  system  then  existing,  on  a  single 
evening  under  trying  circumstances  in  very  insufficient  space. 
Reorganisation  did  not  rapidly  fill  the  ranks,  and  there  was 
much  hard  work  to  be  done  before  the  Artists'  Corps  appeared 
as  a  completed  eight-company  battalion,  and  took  its  place 
among  the  best  of  the  Volunteer  Corps  of  the  Metropolis. 
The  personality  of  the  Commander  did  very  much  to  achieve 
this  result,  and  Leighton  became  Lieutenant-Colonel  Com- 
mandant in   1876. 

"  Next  to  his  duty  to  his  Art  and  to  the  Royal  Academy, 
as  he  was  ever  careful  to  say,  he  esteemed  his  duty  in  the 
Corps.  Busy  man,  with  his  time  mapped  out  more  than 
most,  he  was  always  accessible  and  ready  to  give  the  neces- 
sary time  to  those  who  had  access  to  him  on  the  Corps  busi- 
ness. He  never  appeared  on  parade  without  previous  study 
of  the  drill  to  be  gone  through,  while  his  tact,  energy,  and 
personal  charm  were  brought  out  and  used  at  those  social 
meetings  with  officers  and  with  men  which  do  so  much  to 
build  up  the  tone  of  a  volunteer  body. 

"Of  camps  and  duties  in  the  tented  field  he  took  his  part 
cheerfully.  He  shared  the  hardship  of  the  early  experience 
of  the  detachment  at  the  Dartmoor  Manoeuvres,  where,  camp- 
ine  on  the  barren  hills  above  the  lower  level  of  the  mist, 
the  extemporised  commissariat  followed  with  difficulty,  and 
the   officers   consoled    themselves    for    the    roughness   of  their 


INTRODUCTION  13 

fare  by  the  consumption  of  marmalade,  which  happened  to 
be  suppHed  in  bulk,  and  had  to  clean  their  knives  in  the 
sand  to  make  some  show  for  the  entertainment  of  the 
Brigadier  at  such  dinner  as  could  be  had. 

"  Regarding  volunteering  so  earnestly  as  he  did,  the  reports 
of  the  Inspecting  Officers  would  appear  of  great  importance  in 
Leighton's  eyes.  On  one  occasion  paragraphs  had  appeared 
in  the  papers  about  the  Corps  which  probably  gave  some 
umbrage  to  the  authorities.  The  Inspecting  Officer  kept  the 
battalion  an  unconscionable  time  at  drill,  changed  the  com- 
mand, fell  out  the  Staff  Sergeants,  yet  all  went  well.  At 
length,  with  Leighton  again  in  command,  and  a  word  im- 
perfectly heard,  the  square  walked  outwards  in  four  directions. 
The  confusion  was  put  to  rights,  and  the  well  -  prepared 
speech  from  the  Inspecting  Officer  as  to  the  importance  of 
battalion  drills,  &c.,  followed.  It  was  quite  a  pleasure  to 
point  out  to  the  distressed  Leighton  that  the  whole  was 
manifestly  a   'put  up  thing.' 

"The  answer  he  received  on  another  occasion  admitted 
of  no  misinterpretation.  Riding  with  the  Officer  after  the 
inspection,  and  anxious  to  know  whether  in  his  opinion 
he  was  really  doing  any  good  work  by  his  volunteering, 
Leighton  asked  whether  the  Officer  would  be  willing  to  take 
the  battalion  he  had  just  inspected  under  fire,  and  received 
the  laconic  reply,   'Yes,  sir,   hell  fire.' 

"  On  Leighton's  election  as  President  of  the  Academy,  his 
twenty-five  years  active  service  in  the  Corps  ceased  in  1883. 
All  the  time  that  the  history  of  the  volunteering  of  the 
nineteenth  century  is  known,  his  name  will  be  associated 
with  the  Artists'  Corps  to  the  honour  of  both." 

Mr.  Hamo  Thornycroft,  R.A.,  also  adds  his  tribute  in 
the  following  lines  : — 

"  I  should  think  that  few  Commanding  Officers  of  Volun- 
teer Regiments  could  surpass  Colonel   Leighton  in  efficiency. 


14  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

His  wonderful  knowledge  of  infantry  drill,  and  the  decision 
with  which  he  gave  the  word  of  command,  made  it  very  easy 
for  the  men  in  the  ranks  to  obey  him  ;  and  the  quickness 
of  eye  with  which  he  detected  an  error  in  any  movement 
frequently  saved  confusion  in  the  ranks  on  a  field  day.  The 
Artists'  Corps  soon  became  one  of  the  smartest  in  London. 
I  well  remember  how  efficiently  he  commanded  the  Volunteer 
Battalion  in  the  Army  Manoeuvres  on  Dartmoor  in  1876, 
when  for  a  fortnight  of  almost  continuous  rain  on  that  wild 
moorland  he  kept  us  all  happy  and  full  of  respect  for  him 
by  his  fine  soldierly  example.  His  thoroughness  and  kind- 
ness were  constant.  After  a  soaking  wet  night  he  would 
come  down  the  line  of  tents  in  the  early  morning  dis- 
tributing some  unheard-of  luxury,  such  as  a  couple  of  new- 
laid  eggs  to  each  man,  which  he  had  managed  to  have  sent 
from   some  outlying  village." 

Besides  the  obvious  results  of  a  complex  and  astonishingly 
comprehensive  nature,  there  were  also  phases  in  Leighton's 
life  which  were  the  outcome  on  that  side  of  his  being  half 
hidden  to  himself. 

Most  of  us  have  dual  natures,  not  only  in  the  sense  that 
good  and  bad  reside  within  us  simultaneously,  but  we  have  also 
a  less  definable  duality  of  nature  ;  nature's  original  creature 
being  one  thing,  and  the  creature  developed  by  the  conditions 
it  meets  with  in  its  journey  through  life,  another.  Each  acts 
and  reacts  on  the  other.  We  meet  the  conditions  forced  upon 
us  in  life  from  the  point  of  our  own  individualities.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  original  creature  gets  twisted  by  circumstances 
and  the  influence  of  other  personalities,  and  becomes  partially 
altered  into  a  different  person.  This  backwards  and  forwards 
swaying  of  the  influence  of  nature  and  circumstances  helps  to 
make  life  the  intricate  business  it  is.  In  the  case  of  highly 
gifted  human  beings  there  seem  to  be  further  complications, 
arising  chiefly,  perhaps,  from  the  fact  that  these  form  so  small 


INTRODUCTION  15 

a  minority.  Very  subtle  and  undefinable  is  the  effect  of  such 
gifts  on  the  character  and  nature  of  those  possessing  them, 
for  nature  herself  maintains  a  kind  of  secrecy  and  endows  her 
favoured  ones  with  but  a  half  consciousness  in  respect  of  them. 
She  gives  to  the  artist  and  to  the  poet  the  something,  unshared 
with  the  ordinary  mortal,  which  controls  the  inner  core  of  his 
being,  and  which  is  another  quantity  to  be  allowed  for  in  his 
contact  with  his  fellows.  It  initiates  his  most  passionate, 
peremptory  conditions  of  temperament,  yet  it  remains  partially 
veiled  to  himself,  in  so  far  that  he  cannot  explain  it,  nor  give 
it  its  right  place,  any  more  than  the  lover  can  explain  the 
glamour  which  is  spread  over  life  by  an  overpowering  first 
love.  When  Plato  classes  the  souls  of  the  philosopher,  the 
artist,  the  musician,  and  the  lover  together^  as  having  been 
born  to  see  most  of  truth,  he  recognises  the  same  inspired 
instinctive  quality  in  the  artist  as  in  the  lover.  In  the  artist 
is  linked,  as  part  of  its  separateness  from  the  rest  of  the  com- 
munity, the  inseparable  shyness  of  the  lover.  Anything  is 
better  than  to  expose  the  sacred,  indescribable  treasure  to  the 
indifferent  stare  of  the  uninitiated.  We  find  every  sort  of 
ruse  adopted  by  lovers  and  artists  to  avoid  being  forced  into 
explicitness  on  so  tender,  so  intimate  a  passion  ;  so  convincing 
to  its  possessor,  so  impossible  of  full  explanation  to  those  who 
possess  it  not.  The  necessity  to  give  it  a  clear  outline  is  only 
forced  when  a  danger  arises  of  the  lover  being  robbed  of  his 
mistress,  the  artist  of  his  vocation  ;  then  the  will,  propelled  by 

1  In  Plato's  "  Phaedrus,"  Socrates  says:  "The  soul,  which  has  seen  most  of 
trouble,  shall  come  to  the  birth  as  a  philosopher,  or  artist,  or  musician,  or  lover  ; 
that  which  has  seen  truth  in  the  second  degree,  shall  be  a  righteous  king,  or  warrior, 
or  lord  ;  the  soul  which  is  of  the  third  class,  shall  be  a  politician,  or  economist,  or 
trader  ;  the  fourth,  shall  be  a  lover  of  gymnastic  toils,  or  a  physician  ;  the  fifth,  a 
prophet,  or  hierophant ;  to  the  sixth,  a  poet  or  imitator  will  be  'appropriate';  to  the 
seventh,  the  life  of  an  artisan,  or  husbandman  ;  to  the  eighth,  that  of  a  sophist,  or 
demagogue  ;  to  the  ninth,  that  of  a  tyrant ;  all  these  are  states  of  probation,  in  which 
he  who  lives  righteously,  improves,  and  he  who  lives  unrighteously,  deteriorates 
his  lot." 


1 6  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

the  all-conquering  love,  asserts  itself,  and  difficulties  have  to 
succumb  before  it. 

Such  was  the  result  of  opposition  in  Leighton's  case.  From 
early  childhood  he  was  known  to  care  for  nothing  so  much  as 
for  drawing,  and  his  talent  attracted  notice  and  pleased  his 
family,  every  encouragement  being  given  him  by  his  parents 
in  his  studies.  It  was  only  when,  as  a  boy  of  twelve,  he 
viewed  art  as  the  serious  work  of  his  future  life,  and  when 
this  view  was  met  by  the  authorities  as  one  not  to  be 
encouraged,  that  the  strong  passion  of  his  nature  asserted  its 
rights.  Clearly  in  opposition  are  planted  the  firmest  roots 
of  those  inevitable  developments  which  make  the  great,  of 
the  world  great.  In  Leighton  was  nurtured  that  sense  of 
responsibility  towards  his  vocation,  so  salient  a  characteristic 
throughout  his  career,  partly  by  his  father's  attitude  towards 
the  worship  of  his  nature  for  beauty  and  for  her  exponent 
art.  To  prove  that  his  self-chosen  labour  was  no  mere 
play  work,  no  mere  avoiding  the  hard  work  of  life  and  the 
duller  paths  of  service  generally  recognised  only  as  of  serious 
use  to  mankind,  for  a  game  which  was  a  mere  pleasure, 
was  a  strong  additional  incentive  to  Leighton's  own  high 
aspirations,  inspiring  him  yet  more  to  treat  the  development 
of  his  gifts  as  a  moral  responsibility.  He  considered  it 
almost  in  the  light  of  a  debt  owing  to  those  to  whom  he 
was  attached  by  strong  family  affection,  that  he  should  prove 
good  his  cause.  Though  he  fought  and  overcame,  having 
once  won  his  point,  he  did  his  utmost  to  satisfy  his  father's 
ambition  for  him,  and  to  be  "eminent." 

On  August  5,  1879,  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Mark  Pattison,  who 
was  compiling  notes  for  an  article  on  his  life  :  "My  father, 
of  his  own  impulse,  sat  down  to  write  a  few  jottings,  which 
I  cannot  resist  sending  you,  because  I  was  touched  at  the 
thought  in  this  kind  old  man  of  eighty.  He,  by  the  way,  is 
a   fine   scholar,  and    was,  at    his    best,   a  man   of   exceptional 


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INTRODUCTION  17 

intellectual  powers.  My  desire  to  be  an  artist  dates  as  far 
back  as  my  memory,  and  was  wholly  spontaneous,  or  rather 
unprompted.  My  parents  surrounded  me  with  every  facility 
to  learn  drawing,  but,  as  I  have  told  you,  strongly  discoun- 
tenanced the  idea  of  my  being  an  artist  unless  I  could  be 
eminent  in  art." 

Still — though  to  excel  was  Leighton's  aim,  in  order  to 
satisfy  his  father's  and  also  his  own  ambition — within  the 
hidden  recesses  of  that  aim  lay  the  reverent,  more  sino-le- 
hearted  worship  for  his  mistress  Art — seldom  unveiled,  it 
would  seem,  when  with  his  father,  to  whose  purely  intellectual 
and  philosophical  attitude  of  mind  it  would  not  have  appealed. 
Those  alone  possessed  the  key  to  that  inner  sanctuary  who 
did  not  need  the  key  ;  who  wanted  no  introduction,  and  were 
not  merely  sympathisers,  but  native  inhabitants.  There  is  a 
freemasonry  between  the  inmates  of  these  places  remote  from 
the  world's  usual  habitations,  and  these,  naturally,  have  a 
horror  of  vaunting  the  possession  of  a  sacred  ground  to  the 
outsider,  the  uninitiated.  Many  of  Leighton's  most  intimate 
acquaintances  gathered  no  clue,  through  their  knowledge  of 
him,  of  the  existence  of  the  secluded  spot.  Dr.  Leighton's 
influence,  however,  non-artistic  as  was  his  nature,  stimulated 
his  son's  natural  mental  elasticity,  encouraging  a  comprehen- 
sive and  unprejudiced  view  of  life  and  people,  a  view  which 
marked  Leighton's  undertakings  with  a  stamp  of  nobility  and 
distinction  throuo^hout  his  career.     Yet  further — the  intellectual 

o 

training  he  received  in  youth  probably  enlarged,  in  some 
respects,  the  areas  of  the  sacred  sanctuary  itself,  enabling 
Leighton,  when  he  was  the  servant  of  the  public  and  pos- 
sessing wide  influence  and  patronage,  not  only  to  exercise 
power  with  the  qualities  which  spring  from  a  high  intellectual 
development,  but  to  mellow  with  wisdom  the  guidance  of  the 
yet  higher  sympathies  of  the  heart,  when  helping  those  stagger- 
ing along  the  road  which  he  himself  had  travelled  over  with 

VOL.  I.  B 


1 8  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

such  success.  To  many,  however,  especially  to  those  possess- 
ing the  artistic  temperament,  it  must  always  remain,  to  say  the 
least,  a  questionable  advantage  to  a  student  of  art  that  his 
intellectual  faculties  should  be  forced  forward  at  the  expense 
of  the  development  of  his  more  emotional  and  ingenuous 
instincts,  at  the  age  when  sensitiveness  to  receive  impres- 
sions is  keenest,  and  when  such  impressions  have  the  most 
lasting  power  in  moulding  the  future  tendencies  of  his  nature. 
Certainly  the  effects  of  a  development  of  critical  and  ana- 
lytical faculties  is  apt  to  prove  a  damper  to  those  ecstasies 
of  enthusiasm  which  inspire  the  most  conyincing  concep- 
tions in  art.  When  first  starting  and  facing  seriously  his 
independent  career  alone,  Leighton  writes  to  his  mother  : 
"  I  wish  that  I  had  a  mind,  simple  and  unconscious  as  a 
child."  Again,  writing  to  his  elder  sister  from  Algiers  in 
1857,  after  describing  the  delightful  impression  produced 
by  a  first  visit  to  an  Eastern  country,  he  adds :  "  And  yet 
what  I  have  said  of  my  feelings,  though  literally  true,  does 
not  give  you  an  exactly  true  notion,  for  together  with,  and 
as  it  were  behind,  so  much  pleasurable  emotion,  there  is 
always  that  other  strange  second  man  in  me,  calm,  ob- 
servant, critical,  unmoved,  blase — odious!  He  is  a  shadow 
that  walks  with  me,  a  sort  of  nineteenth  -  century  canker 
of  doubt  and  dissection ;  it's  very,  very  seldom  that  I 
forget  his  loathsome  presence.  What  cheering  things  I 
find  to  say  !  " 

Allied  to  the  third,  more  intimate  aspect  of  his  nature  were 
phases  in  Leighton's  feelings  when  heart  would  seem  to  con- 
quer head.  He  would  at  times  indulge  in  what  might  almost 
be  designated  as  a  self-imposed  blindness,  when  he  would 
allow  of  no  criticism  by  himself  or  others  of  the  cause  or  person 
in  question.  An  enthusiastic,  unselfish  devotion,  a  sense  of 
chivalry  or  pity,  would  override  his  normally  clear-sighted, 
intellectual   acumen.      Havincr    set    his    belief  and   admiration 


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EARLY  PICTURE  OF  BOY  RESCUING  SLEEPING  BABY 

FROM  EAGLE 
Leighton  House  Collection 


INTRODUCTION  19 

to  one  tune,  faithful  loyalty — and  maybe  a  certain  amount 
of  obstinacy — would  bind  him  fast  in  an  adherence  to  the 
same. 

Belonging  also  to  the  intuitive,  more  emotional  side  of 
his  nature,  was  the  curiously  strong  influence  places  exer- 
cised over  him,  certain  localities  affecting  him  and  exciting  his 
sympathies  with  a  strong  power. 

In  1857  he  wrote  to  his  elder  sister:  "If  I  am  as 
faithful  to  my  wife  as  I  am  to  the  places  I  love,  I  shall  do 
very  well !  " 

In  order  to  seize  fully  Leighton's  complete  individuality,  an 
understanding  of  Italy,  his  "  second  home,"  is  perhaps  neces- 
sary— a  conception  of  the  nature  of  the  unsophisticated  Italian 
life  which  fascinated  him  so  greatly  when  as  yet  no  invasion 
had  been  made  of  cosmopolitan,  so-called  civilisation.  As  a 
mao-net,  Italy  drew  Leighton  to  her.^  Under  the  influence  of 
her  radiant  beauty,  breathing  such  a  life  of  charm  and  colour 
beneath  sunlit  skies,  he  felt  the  sources  of  happiness  in  his 
own  nature  expand  and  his  powers  ripen.  In  the  fertility 
of  her  soil,  the  vitality  of  her  people,  the  superb  quality  of 
her   art — fine    and   gracious    in   its  perfection,  and  distributed 

1  He  wrote  to  his  sister  in  1857  from  Algiers  :  "  I  shall  spend  my  next  winter  in 
my  dear,  dear  old  Rome,  to  which  I  am  attached  beyond  measure  ;  indeed,  Italy 
altogether  has  a  hold  on  my  heart  that  no  other  country  ever  can  have  (except,  of 
course,  my  own),  and  although,  as  I  just  now  said,  I  was  most  delighted  with  Africa, 
and  have  not  a  moment  to  look  back  to  that  was  not  agreeable,  yet  there  is  an 
intimate  little  corner  in  my  affections  into  which  it  could  never  penetrate."  And 
later  he  wrote  in  a  letter  to  his  mother  :  "  I  have  so  often  been  to  Italy,  and  so  often 
written  to  you  from  thence,  that  it  seems  quite  a  platitude  to  tell  you  how  much  I 
enjoy  it,  and  what  a  keen  delight  I  felt  again  this  time  when  I  once  more  trod  the 
soil  of  this  wonderful  country  ;  indeed,  by  the  time  you  get  this  you  will  already 
yourself  be  in  full  enjoyment  of  its  pleasures,  and  though  naturally  you  cannot  feel 
one  tittle  of  my  attachment  and  yearning  affection  for  it,  yet  you  will  have  all  the 
physical  delights  of  sun  and  serene  skies  and  a  good  share  of  the  wonder  and  ad- 
miration at  the  inexhaustible  natural  beauties  of  this  garden  of  the  world.  I  came 
through  Switzerland  this  time,  but  as  quick  as  a  shot,  as  I  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  hovie 
to  Italy." 


20  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

generously  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  her  land — 
he  experienced  influences  which  intensified  his  emotions  and 
vivified  his  imagination.  The  child-like  charm  of  her  people, 
so  Spontaneously  happy,  enjoying  the  ease  and  assurance  ot 
nature's  own  aristocracy,  because  enjoying  nature's  generous 
gifts  with  unabashed  fulness  of  sensation,  in  whom  are  non- 
existent those  sensibilities  which  create  self-consciousness, 
restraint,  and  an  absence  of  self-confidence,  aroused  in 
Leighton  an  interest  deeper  than  mere  pleasure.  It  was  to 
him  like  the  joy  of  a  yearning  satisfied,  as  of  those  who,  having 
had  their  lot  cast  for  years  with  aliens  and  foreigners,  find 
themselves  again  with  their  own  kith  and  kin,  surrounded  by 
the  native  atmosphere  which  had  lent  such  enchantment  to 
childhood.  Again  and  again  he  returned  to  Italy  to  be  made 
happy,  to  be  revived,  to  be  strengthened  by  her.  Her  influence 
became  kneaded  into  his  very  being,  not  only  nourishing  his 
sense  of  beauty  and  rendering  more  complete  the  artist  nature 
within  him,  but  touching  the  sources  from  which  his  artist 
temperament  sprang,  inspiring  his  very  personality  and  chang- 
ing it  into  one  which  was  certainly  not  typically  English.  His 
rapid  utterance,  his  picturesque  gesture,  his  very  appearance, 
were  not  emphatically  English.^ 

Certain  Englishmen  who  knew  Leighton  but  slightly  felt 
out  of  sympathy  with  him  for  this  reason,  experiencing  a 
difficulty  in  recognising  him  as  one  of  themselves.  It  was, 
however,  only  on  the  surface  that  a  difference  existed.  Once 
intimate  with  Leighton,  he  was  ever  found  to  be  mi  fond 
English  of  the  English.  After  the  age  of  thirty  it  was  in 
England  Leighton  fought  the  serious  battle  of  life — Italy  was 
but  the  playground,  though  a  playground  of  such  fascination 

^  Du  Maurier,  who  took  much  interest  in  tracing  indications  of  various  racial 
distinctions  in  the  remarkable  people  of  his  time,  was  troubled  on  this  point.  He 
was  convinced  that  in  Leighton  existed  indications  of  foreign  or  Jewish  blood,  but 
was  quite  unable  to  discover  any  facts  in  support  of  this  theory. 


INTRODUCTION  21 

to  him  that  the  glamour  of  it  was  spread  over  the  working 
hours  no  less  than  over  the  holidays.  In  these  days  we 
have  to  go  into  the  smaller  towns  and  villages  to  discover 
the  typical  Italian  characteristics;  but  when  Leighton,  as  a 
child,  was  taken  from  the  gloom  of  Bloomsbury  to  this,  to 
him  a  magic  world,  —  syndicates,  building  -  companies,  tram- 
ways, and  modern  things  generally,  had  not  as  yet  invaded 
either  Rome  or  Florence.  When  grown  up  and  master  of 
his  own  actions,  he  wandered  into  unsophisticated  haunts 
—  villages  and  towns  off  the  beaten  tracks,  where  with 
abnormal  facility  he  learned  the  distinctive  patois  of  every 
district,  listening  with  delight  to  local  folk  -  songs,  and 
watching  the  peasants  and  the  aborigines  of  the  soil.  In 
early  sketch  -  books  we  find  records  of  visits  to  Albano, 
Tivoli,  Cervaro,  Subiaco,  San  Giuminiano,  and  to  even 
smaller  and  less  known  villages  in  Tuscany  and  Veneziano, 
where  he  enjoyed  the  unalloyed  flavour  of  Italy  and  her 
people.  Those  who  pay  only  flying  visits  to  the  country 
after  they  are  grown  up  would  find  a  difficulty  perhaps  in 
realising  what  Italy  was  to  Leighton  ;  but  any  one  visiting 
for  a  few  weeks  even  such  a  well-known  place  as  Albano, 
without  other  preoccupation  than  to  watch  the  natives  and 
wander  in  the  beautiful  scenery  to  the  sound  of  the  many 
flowing  fountains,  could  still  catch  something  of  the  true 
national  spirit  which  fascinated  him  so  greatly.  The  typical 
Britisher  might  regard  the  ways  of  these  natives  of  the 
Provincia  di  Roma  as  irrational,  idle,  semi-savage.  Doubt- 
less the  streets  and  piazzas  abound  in  noisy  inhabitants, 
gesticulating  with  wild  dramatic  fervour,  who  appear  to  have 
otherwise  little  to  do  in  life  but  to  loiter  and  "look  on"; 
sociable  groups  of  women  sit  round  the  doorways  knitting  ; 
but  it  is  the  talk,  accompanied  by  excited  action,  which 
is  engrossing  them.  Charmingly  pretty  children  are  play- 
ing   everywhere — idle,   troublesome,   but  so   happy  !      To    the 


2  2  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

accompanying  sound  of  running  waters, — night  and  day, — cries, 
yells,  and  songs  ring  out  through  the  ancient  little  town/ 
High  up  on  the  side  of  the  mountains  it  overlooks  the 
Roman  Campagna,  the  tragic  strangeness  of  those  land-waves 
rolling  away,  flattened  and  stretched  out,  for  miles  and  miles, 
under  the  dome  of  liofht  and  shadowingf  cloud,  a  network  of 
bright  gleams  and  violet  lakelets,  to  the  far  -  off  brilliant 
shine  on  the  sea  limit. ^  This  noise,  dramatic  action,  gesticu- 
lation, all  ending  apparently  in  nothing  in  particular,  but 
filling  the  little  town  with  such  amazing  vitality  —  what  is 
it  all  about  ?  The  typical  Englishman  does  not  know — 
does  not  care  to  know,  despising  the  whole  thing  as  beneath 
his  notice.  But  Leighton  knew  well  what  it  meant.  From 
experiences  in  his  own  nature  he  realised  that  it  was  but  an 
innocent  outlet,  through  voice  and  gesture,  of  an  excitement 
resulting  from  an  imperative  dramatic  instinct,  a  vital  force 
in  the  emotional  nature  of  the  Italian.  He  recognised  the 
necessity  for  such  an  outlet  in  such  temperaments  through 
his  sympathy  with  the  glad  exuberance  of  physical  vitality 
enjoyed  in  this  sunlit  land  ;  anti-puritan  though  it  may  be, 
this  exuberance  is  none  the  less  pure  and  innocent. 

The  holy  Saint  Francis  in  his  ecstasies  of  spiritual  illu- 
mination would,  it  is  said,  break  out  into  song  from  the 
natural  impulse  to  find  an  outlet  and  to  throw  off  the  excess 
of  excitement,  that  thrilled  through  his  being. ^ 

^  Leighton  wrote  in  a  letter  to  his  sister  from  Algiers  of  the  strange  sounds  which 
the  Moors  emit,  adding  :  "  Much  the  same  sort  of  thing  is  noticeable  in  the  peasants 
near  Rome,  whose  songs  consist  (within  a  definite  shape)  of  long-sustained  chest  notes 
that  are  peculiar  in  the  extreme,  and  though  often  harsh,  seem  to  be  wonderfully  in 
harmony  with  the  long  unbroken  lines  of  the  Campagna." 

-  On  December  i,  1856,  Leighton  writes  to  Steinle  :  "  My  Italian  journey  afforded 
me  in  every  way  the  greatest  pleasure  and  edification,  and  I  seem  now  for  the  first 
time  to  have  grasped  the  greatness  of  the  Campagna  and  the  giant  loftiness  of 
Michael  Angelo." 

^  "  Apr^s  de  pareilles  emotions,  il  avait  besoin  d'etre  seul,  de  savourer  sa  joie,  de 
chanter  sa  liberte  definitivement  conquise,  sur  lous  les  sentiers  le  long  desquels  il  avait 
tant  gemi,  tant  luttd. 


INTRODUCTION  23 

Leighton  knew  that  to  suppress  the  vitaHty  which  needs 
such  an  outlet  was  to  minimise  the  forces  necessary  for  hfe's 
best  work.  He  himself,  in  the  working  of  his  mind,  was  pos- 
sessed of  a  magnificent  facility — a  facility  which  left  the  strength 
of  his  emotions  fresh  and  free,  to  enjoy  the  ecstasies  of  admira- 
tion and  delight  which  the  choice  gifts  of  nature  and  art  had 
given  him  ;  but  there  are  many  among  modern  men  and 
women,  taught  by  much  reading,  who  overweight  their 
physical  vitality  in  the  effort  to  develop  intellect  and  to  for- 
ward self-interest,  till  all  simple  physical  enjoyment  is  lost, 
and  the  natural  man  becomes  repressed  into  a  mental 
machine  incapable  of  any  spontaneous  emotions  of  joy,  and 
blunt  to  the  fine  aroma  of  life's  keen  and  pure  pleasures — 

"My  nature  is  subdued  to  what  it  works  in." 

To  Leighton  the  simple  joyous  child  of  nature,  in  the  form 
of  the  unsophisticated  Italian,  was  a  preferable  being.  To  the 
end  of  his  life  he  retained  much  of  the  child  in  his  own  nature, 
and  had  ever  an  inborn  sympathy  with  the  love  for  children 
so  evident  everywhere  in  unspoilt  Italy  ;  for  the  gracious 
caressing  of  them  by  the  poorest  of  the  poor — old  men  in  the 
veriest  tatters  and  rags  showing  a  complete  and  beautiful  sub- 
mission to  the  dominating  charms  of  babyhood. 

The  memory  of  the  hideous,  gruesome  stories  of  baby- 
farming  in  England  strikes  indeed  a  contrast  with  the  scenes 

"  II  ne  voulut  done  pas  retourner  immediatement  a  Sain-Damien.  Sortant  de  la  cite 
par  la  porte  la  plus  voisine,  il  s'enfon^a  dans  les  sentiers  deserts  qui  grimpent  sur  les 
flancs  du  Mont  Subasio.  On  etait  aux  tout  premiers  jours  du  printemps.  II  y  avait 
encore  qk  et  Ik  de  grandes  fondrieres  de  neige,  mais  sous  les  ardeurs  du  soleil  de 
mars  I'hiver  semblait  s'avouer  vaincu.  Au  sein  de  cette  harmonie,  mysterieuse  et 
troublante,  le  cceur  de  Frangois  vibrait  ddlicieusement,  tout  son  etre  se  calmait  et 
s'exaltait  ;  Tame  des  choses  le  caressait  doucement  et  lui  versait  I'apaisement.  Un 
bonheur  inconnu  I'envalussait  ;  pour  celebrer  sa  victoireet  sa  liberte,  il  remplet  bientot 
toute  la  foret  du  bruit  de  ses  chants. 

"  Les  emotions  trop  douces  ou  trop  profondes  pour  pouvoir  etre  exprimees  dans 
la  langue  ordinaire,  I'homme  les  chante."— Fz>  de  S.  Franqois  d' Assise,  pa?-  Paul 
Sabatier. 


24  THE   LIFE    OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

that  abound  at  every  turn  in  any  old,  dirty,  picturesque  Italian 
village,  and  assuredly  settles  the  question,  Is  our  English  de- 
velopment of  civilisation  an  unalloyed  benefit  ? 

As  a  contrast  to  the  definite,  explicit  German  development 
of  his  intellectual  machinery,  Leighton  had  special  sympathy 
with  the  emotional  spontaneity  of  the  Italian  race  ;  also  as  a 
contrast  to  the  selective  and  finely  poised  conclusions  to  be 
worked  out  in  theories  of  composition  learnt  from  his  beloved 
master  Steinle,  arose  a  special  admiration  for  the  casual,  unpre- 
meditated, inevitable  grace  and  charm  in  the  manners  and 
gestures  of  this  southern  people.  What  laboured  theories  so 
often  failed  to  achieve,  nature  here  was  always  doing  in  her 
most  careless  moods. 

In  considering  the  intimate  aspect  of  Leighton's  nature,  and 
the  interweaving  of  the  original  fabric  with  the  forces  developed 
by  the  circumstances  he  encountered,  the  influence  of  Italy  must 
assuredly  be  given  a  very  distinct  prominence.  From  her  and 
her  people  he  acquired  courage  in  the  exercise  of  his  intuitive 
preferences,  also  a  development  of  that  rapid  and  direct  insight 
so  inborn  in  her  children.  Like  the  lizards  that  dart  with  such 
lightning  speed  across  her  sun-scorched  walls  and  over  the 
gnarled  bark  of  the  weird  olive  tree,  the  perceptions  of  the 
typical  Italian  are  swift,  and  fly  straight  to  the  mark.  In  the 
Italian,  however,  this  vividness  of  perception  is  mostly  expended 
in  ejaculation  and  dramatic  gesture,  which, — subsiding, — leaves 
a  state  of  indolence  and  nonchalance,  untroubled  by  any  mental 
exertion.  In  Leighton  the  rapidity  with  which  his  perceptions 
seized  the  core  of  truth  was  backed  by  an  intellectual  activity 
of  extraordinary  power,  by  which  he  worked  his  intuitive  sen- 
sibilities into  the  interests  which  guided  the  solid  aims  of 
his  life. 

Probably  no  Englishman  ever  approached  the  Greek  of  the 
Periclean  period  so  nearly  as  did  Leighton,  for  the  reason  that 
he   possessed   that  combination   of  intellectual    and   emotional 


INTRODUCTION  25 

power  in  a  like  rare  degree.  The  human  beings  who  achieve 
most  as  active  workers  in  the  world,  are  doubtless  those  in 
whom  can  be  traced  a  capacity  for  making  apparently  incom- 
patible forces  pull  together  towards  a  desired  end.  Leighton 
succeeded  in  allying  two  distinct  developments  in  his  nature  ; 
and  by,  so  to  say,  putting  these  into  double  harness  and  driving 
them  together,  acquired  an  advantage  which  few  other  artists, 
if  any,  have  possessed  since  the  time  of  the  Greeks. 

But,  being  essentially  English  as  well  as  Greek-like, 
Leighton  pushed  this  combination  of  powers  to  a  moral 
issue.  He  held  as  his  creed  of  creeds  that  the  mission  of 
Art  was  to  act  as  a  lever  in  the  uplifting  of  the  human  race, 
not  by  going  beyond  her  own  domain,  but  by  directing  the 
sense  of  beauty  with  which  her  true  priesthood  must  ever 
be  endowed,  in  order  to  eliminate  from  man  his  more  brutal 
tendencies,  to  refine  and  perfect  his  insight  into  nature,  and 
to  develop  his  delight  in  her  perfection.  He  held  that,  the 
stronger  the  emotional  force  in  an  artist,  the  stronger  the  sense 
of  responsibility  should  be  ;  the  more  he  should  seek  to  express 
it  in  a  manner  which  would  elevate  rather  than  deprave.  In 
his  picture  of  "  Cymon  and  Iphigenia,"  Leighton  expressed  the 
main  dogma  of  his  belief  In  sentences  towards  the  end  of  his 
second  address  to  the  Royal  Academy  students  in  the  year 
1 88 1,  he  eloquently  describes  the  complex  and  deep  nature  of 
those  aesthetic  emotions  whence  spring  the  Arts  : — 

"  It  is  not,  it  cannot  be,  the  foremost  duty  of  Art  to  seek  to 
embody  that  which  it  cannot  adequately  present,  and  to  enter 
into  a  competition  in  which  it  is  doomed  to  inevitable  defeat. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  field  in  which  she  has  no 
rival.  We  have  within  us  the  faculty  for  a  range  of  emotions 
of  vast  compass,  of  exquisite  subtlety,  and  of  irresistible  force, 
to  which  Art  and  Art  alone  amongst  human  forms  of  ex- 
pression has  a  key  ;  these  then,  and  no  others,  are  the  chords 
which  it  is  her  appointed  duty  to  strike  ;  and  Form,   Colour, 


26  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

and  the  contrasts  of  Light  and  Shade  are  the  agents  through 
which  it  is  given  to  her  to  set  them  in  motion.  Her  duty 
is,  therefore,  to  awaken  those  sensations  directly  emotional 
and  indirectly  intellectual,  which  can  be  communicated  only 
through  the  sense  of  sight,  to  the  delight  of  which  she  has 
primarily  to  minister.  And  the  dignity  of  these  sensations 
lies  in  this,  that  they  are  inseparably  connected  by  associa- 
tion of  ideas,  with  a  range  of  perceptions  and  feelings  of 
infinite  variety  and  scope.  They  come  fraught  with  dim 
complex  memories  of  all  the  ever-shifting  spectacle  of  inani- 
mate creation,  and  of  the  more  deeply  stirring  phenomena 
of  life ;  of  the  storm  and  the  lull,  the  splendour  and  the 
darkness  of  the  outer  world  ;  of  the  storm  and  the  lull,  the 
splendour  and  the  darkness  of  the  changeful  and  transitory 
lives  of  men.  Nay,  so  closely  overlaid  is  the  simple  aesthetic 
sensation  with  elements  of  ethic  or  intellectual  emotion  by 
these  constant  and  manifold  accretions  of  associated  ideas, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  it  independently  of  this 
precious  overgrowth.  ..."  The  most  sensitively  religious 
mind  may  indeed  rest  satisfied  '  in  the  consciousness  that  it 
is  not  on  the  wings  of  abstract  thought  alone  that  we  rise 
to  the  highest  moods  of  contemplation,  or  to  the  most  chas- 
tened moral  temper  ;  and  assuredly  Arts  which  have  for  their 
chief  task  to  reveal  the  inmost  springs  of  Beauty  in  the  created 
world,  to  display  all  the  pomp  of  the  teeming  earth,  and  all 
the  pageant  of  those  heavens  of  which  we  are  told  that  they 
declare  the  Glory  of  God,  are  not  the  least  eloquent  witnesses 
to  the  might  and  to  the  majesty  of  the  mysterious  and 
eternal   Fountain  of  all  good  things." 

Not  only  could  no  attempt  be  approximately  made  at 
giving  a  real  and  vivid  picture  of  Leighton's  remarkable  per- 
sonality were  not  the  three  aspects  of  his  nature  taken  into 
account,  but  also  if  the  infiuences  which  affected  him  strongly 
during  those  years  when  his  genius  and  character  were  being 


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PORTRAIT  OF  PROFESSOR  EDOUARD  STEINLE 

Drawn  by  Himself 


INTRODUCTION  27 

developed  were  not  also  considered.  His  conscious  nature  and 
feelings,  during  the  first  thirty  years  of  his  life,  can  be  best 
traced  in  his  letters,  notably  in  those  to  his  mother.  It  is 
easy  to  recognise,  in  reading  his  mother's  letters  to  him,  from 
whom  he  inherits  the  warm  tender  generosity  which  made 
his  nature  so  lovable. 

When  at  Frankfort,  in  1845,  he  first  became  acquainted 
with  the  most  "  indelible "  influence  of  his  life  in  that  inner 
sanctuary  in  which  he  had  hitherto  been  a  lonely  inmate. 
Seven  years  later,  in  the  Diary  he  calls  "Pebbles,"  written 
for  his  mother,  when,  fully  fledged,  he  leaves  the  nest 
to  battle  alone  on  the  field  of  life,  he  pays  a  tribute  of 
unqualified  affection  and  gratitude  to  his  master,  Steinle, 
who  first  unlocked  the  door  to  Leighton's  full  conscious- 
ness of  the  depth  of  his  devotion  for  his  calling  (see 
pp.   61   and   62). 

In  1879,  the  year  after  Leighton  was  elected  President 
of  the  Royal  Academy,  in  the  same  letter  to  Mrs.  Mark 
Pattison  already  quoted  from,  he  writes,  respecting  the  in- 
fluences which  affected  his  art  development :  "  For  bad  by 
Florentine  Academy,  for  good,  far  beyond  all  others,  by 
Steinle,  a  noble-minded,  single-hearted  artist,  sii  en  fut. 
Technically,  1  learnt  (later)  much  from  Robert  Fleury,  but 
being  very  receptive  and  prone  to  admire,  I  have  learnt,  and 
still  do,  from  innumerable  artists,  big  and  small.  Steinle's 
is,  however,  the  indelible  seal  The  thoroughness  of  all  the 
great  old  masters  is  so  pervading  a  quality  that  I  look  upon 
them  all  as  forming  one  aristocracy," 

During  the  first  year  when  he  settled  in  Rome,  in  the 
beginning  of  1853,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Sartoris.  Leighton's  friendship  with  Mrs.  Sartoris  (Adelaide 
Kemble),  many  years  his  senior,  and  one  who  had  ever 
viewed  her  art  as  a  singer  from  the  purest  and  highest  aspect, 
became  a  stronsf  and  elevatine  influence  in  his  life.     Professor 


2  8  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Giovanni  Costa  (the  "  Nino"  of  the  letters),  one  of  Leighton's 
most  intimate  friends  from  the  year  1853  to  the  end  in  1896, 
wrote  of  Mrs.  Sartoris,  referring  to  the  early  days  in  Rome 
from  1853  to  1856:^  "The  greatest  influence  on  the  life  of 
Frederic  Leigh  ton  was  exerted  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sartoris 
(Miss  Adelaide  Kemble),  who  had  the  mind  of  a  great  artist. 
Mr.  Sartoris  was  one  of  the  greatest  critics  of  art,  and  Mrs. 
Sartoris  had  a  most  elevated  and  serene  nature." 

This  great  friendship  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sartoris  brought 
with  it  many  others,  notably  those  of  Robert  Browning  and 
of  Mr.  Henry  Greville.  Some  years  later,  Leighton  writes 
of  Mr.  Henry  Greville,  in  a  letter  to  his  pupil  and  friend, 
Mr.  John  Walker :  "  He  is  indeed  one  of  the  kindest  and 
best  men  possible,  I  look  on  him  myself  as  a  second  father  "  ; 
and  Henry  Greville  in  a  letter  to  Leighton  writes  :  "  I  wish 
you  were  my  son.  Fay" — Fay  being  the  name  given  to 
Leighton  by  his  inner  circle  of  intimates,  and  certainly  a 
stroke  of  genius  in  the  one  who  invented  it.  Writing  from 
Frankfort  to  his  mother,  where  he  returned  to  show  his  works 
to  Steinle  after  his  family  had  finally  migrated  to  Bath  and 
he  to  Rome,  he  says:  "I  have  had  such  a  letter  from  Henry 
(Henry  Greville) ;  there  never  was  anything  like  the  tender- 
ness of  it.     You  would  have  been  just  enchanted." 

The  friendship  with  Mrs.  Sartoris  only  ended  with  her 
death  in  1879,  the  year  after  Leighton  was  elected  President 
of  the  Royal  Academy.  Being  then  close  upon  fifty,  deeply 
sensible  of  the  grave  responsibilities  involved  by  his  new 
position,  Leighton  entered  on  a  fresh  phase  in  his  career. 
As  president  of  the  centre  of  national  living  art,  this  phase 
involved  a  serious  view  being  taken  of  the  interests  of  art 
such  as  could  be  encouraged  by  a  public  body.  Also  as  one 
who  had  been  helped  and  encouraged  by  personal  friendship 
and  influence  to  work  out  the  best  in  him,  with  his  ever  eager 

1  "Notes  on  Lord  Leighton,"  Cornhill Magazine,  March  1897. 


FROM  DRAWING  OF  ADELAIDE  SARTORIS 

Paris,  1856 


--■'',.■. 


^e^CU^-x^X.-  1&6  i 


■>iT- 


INTRODUCTION  29 

and  generous  nature  he  felt  anxious  to  hand  on  the  help 
he  had  received  by  devoting  a  Hke  sympathy  to  the  individual 
interests  of  other  workers.  His  field  of  action  had  become 
enlarged,  and  he  rose  with  consummate  ability  to  the  fulfilment 
of  the  duties  this  larger  area  entailed  on  him.  Not  only  by 
his  biennial  addresses  to  the  students  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
but  by  the  speeches  delivered  spontaneously  at  the  councils 
and  elsewhere,  when  no  preparation  would  have  been  possible, 
his  fame  as  an  orator  was  established.  Many  there  are  who 
have  heard  the  impromptu  speeches  he  made,  who  can  vouch, 
as  do  Mr.  Briton  Riviere  and  Mr.  Hamo  Thornycroft,  that 
these  were  just  as  fine  in  language  and  excellent  in  the 
concise  form  in  which  the  words  were  made  to  convey  the 
intended  meaning,  as  those  which  Leighton  had  carefully 
prepared  beforehand,  and  possessed,  moreover,  the  charm  of 
an  unlaboured  effort. 

The  seventeen  years,  during  which  Leighton  was  Presi- 
dent of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  prominent  in  every  direction 
as  the  leader  of  the  art  of  his  country,  were  not  without 
saddening  influences.  His  duties  necessitated  contact  with 
many  varieties  of  human  nature,  some  far  from  sympathetic 
to  him.  The  contrast  between  his  own  disinterested  reverence 
for  beauty,  moral  and  physical,  with  the  indifference  dis- 
played by  many  of  his  brother  artists  towards  his  own  high 
aims  and  aspirations,  forced  itself  more  and  more  on  Leighton 
as  the  optimistic  fervour  and  enthusiasm  of  youth  waned  with 
years  and  fouling  health.  He  had  to  face  the  depressing  fact 
that  selfish  motives  are  the  ruling  factors  with  most  men,  even 
with  those  who  ostensibly  follow  the  calling  of  beauty.  Much 
of  the  joyousness  of  his  spirit  was  lessened  accordingly,  though 
his  "sweet  reasonableness,"  to  quote  Watts'  truly  suggestive 
words,  never  deserted  him.  This  prevented  any  bitterness  or 
resentment  from  finding  permanent  location  in  his  nature. 
Another  source  of  distress  arose  from  the  fact  that  his  great 


30  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

position  aroused  the  jealousy  of  the  envious.  However 
exceptional  his  tact,  however  truly  heartfelt  his  consideration 
for  others,  no  virtues  could  stand  against  the  vice  of  being 
so  pre-eminently  successful  in  the  eyes  of  the  envious,  whose 
vanity  alone  placed  them  in  their  own  estimation  on  a  level 
with  the  great. 

Nothing  perhaps  excites  so  rampant  a  jealousy  in  un- 
appreciative  and  envious  natures,  as  does  the  unexplainable 
charm  of  a  delightful  personality.  It  aggravates  the  dull 
and  envious  beyond  measure  to  see  a  being  thus  endowed 
galloping  over  the  ground  in  all  directions  with  ease,  there 
being  in  their  eyes  no  sufficient  explanation  for  the  pace. 
Such  success  is  viewed  by  the  envious  as  a  kind  of  trick, 
some  witchery  of  fascination,  which  deludes  the  world  into 
bestowing  unmerited  advantages  on  the  conjuror.  Those, 
on  the  contrary,  who  can  appreciate  a  transcendent  and  de- 
lightful personality,  recognise  it  as  the  convincing  grace  of 
the  power  of  uncommon  gifts  flashing  their  radiance  into  the 
intercourse  of  every-day  life,  modestly  ignored  as  conscious 
possessions  but  inevitably  sparkling  out  in  any  human  inter- 
course, and  from  a  social  point  of  view  making  the  greatest 
amone  us  the  servants  of  all. 

Jealousy  fights  with  hidden  weapons.  What  man  or  woman 
ever  acknowledged  being  jealous  ?  The  passion  is  disguised. 
Hence  the  hideous  sins  that  follow  in  its  wake  :  ingratitude, 
treachery,  calumnies,  are  called  into  the  service  to  blacken  the 
offending  object.  Bacon  says  of  envy  :  "It  is  also  the  vilest 
affection,  and  the  most  depraved  ;  for  which  cause  it  is  the 
proper  attribute  of  the  devil,  who  is  called  the  envious  man, 
that  soweth  tares  amongst  the  wheat  by  night,  as  it  always 
Cometh  to  pass  that  envy  worketh  subtilly,  and  in  the  dark  ; 
and  to  the  prejudice  of  good  things,  such  as  is  the  wheat." 

Leighton  suffered  from  the  jealousy  of  the  envious,  though 
in  most  cases  the  open  expression  of  it  was  smothered  during 


INTRODUCTION  31 

his  life  by  reason  of  his  power  and  position.  Besides  being 
tender-hearted  and  easily  hurt  at  any  feeling  of  hostility  shown 
against  him,  he  cordially  hated  any  phase  of  the  ugly. 

In  the  spring  of  1895  Leighton  said  to  a  friend:  "  My  one 
constant  prayer  is  that  I  should  not  live  beyond  seventy." 
His  great  dread  was  to  be  a  burden  to  any  one — to  cease 
to  be  useful  at  all.  His  wish  was  more  than  fulfilled.  He 
passed  onward  five  years  before  the  allotted  three  score 
and  ten. 

Many  there  were  who  felt  with  Watts  that  life  was  indeed 
darkened;  "a  great  light  was  extinguished,"  a  beloved  friend 
was  no  longer  amongst  them  to  help,  encourage,  and  brighten 
the  days.  To  a  wide  social  circle,  a  personality,  rare  in  its 
charm  and  endowments,  differing  from  all  others,  had  passed 
off  the  stage.  It  was  as  if,  amid  the  sober  brown  and  grey 
plumage  of  our  quiet-coloured  English  birds,  through  the  mists 
and  fogs  of  our  northern  clime,  there  had  sped  across  the  page  of 
our  nineteenth  century  history  the  flight  of  some  brilliant-hued 
flamingo,  emitting  fiashes  of  light  and  colour  on  his  way. 

To  the  wide  public  a  power  and  a  control,  noble  and 
distinguished  in  its  quality,  had  ceased  to  rule  over  the  art 
interests  of  the  country.  Last,  but  not  least,  to  his  "  brothers 
and  sisters,"  as  Leighton  called  all  earnest  students  and  artists, 
it  was  as  if  a  strong  support,  a  centre  of  impelling  force,  an 
inspiration  towards  the  best  and  highest  in  art,  had  been 
suddenly  swept  away. 

On  the  day  of  his  funeral,  a  friend,  whose  husband  had 
known  him  from  the  commencement  to  the  end  of  the  brilliant 
career,  wrote  the  following  notes  : — ^ 

"  Lord  Leighton's  funeral  to-day  was  as  brilliant  as  his  life, 
and  we  came  home  from  the  majestic  ceremony  at  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral  feeling  that  his  kind  and  gracious  spirit  would  have 
rejoiced — for    all    he    loved   and    honoured   in   life  were  there 

^  The  Morning  Post  of  February  4,  1 896. 


32  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

mourning  for  the  loss  of  their  gifted  and  genial  friend.  As 
the  procession  moved  slowly  into  the  Cathedral  the  crimson 
and  golden  pall  was  Venetian  in  its  brilliancy,  and  the  long 
branch  of  palm  spoke  touchingly  of  pain  over  and  the  conquest 
won.  Music,  the  sister  Art  he  so  devoutly  worshipped,  lifted 
up  her  voice  in  pathetic  accents  to  the  dome  of  the  vast 
Cathedral,  striving  to  re  -  echo  the  solemnity  and  grief 
around. 

"  Dear  gracious  Leighton,  how  vividly  my  husband  recalled 
his  earliest  impressions  of  him,  the  handsome  young  artist  at 
Rome.  Visions  arise  in  the  mind  of  joyous  days  in  his  second 
home  there,  the  cultured  and  hospitable  house  of  Adelaide 
Sartoris,  which  formed  the  happy  background  of  Leighton's 
life.  He  remembered  the  departure  of  his  picture  'The 
Triumph  of  Cimabue,'  sent  with  diffidence,  and  so,  propor- 
tionate was  the  joy  when  news  came  of  its  success,  and  that 
the  Queen  had  bought  it.  It  was  the  month  of  May.  Rome 
was  at  its  loveliest,  and  Leighton's  friends  and  brother  artists 
gave  him  a  festal  dinner  to  celebrate  his  honours.  On  re- 
ceiving the  news,  Leighton's  first  act  was  to  fly  to  three  less 
successful  artists  and  buy  a  picture  from  each  of  them  (George 
Mason,  then  still  unknown,  was  one),  and  so  Leighton 
reflected  his  own  happiness  at  once  on  others.  To-day  as 
we  viewed  the  distinguished  (in  the  best  sense  of  the  term) 
mourners,  it  seemed  an  epitome  of  all  his  social  and  artistic 
life.  He  never  forgot  an  old  friend,  and  not  one  was  absent 
to-day.  The  men  around  his  coffin  all  looked  heartily  sad. 
It  was  only  when  those  peaceful  words  came,  '  We  give  Thee 
hearty  thanks,  for  that  it  hath  pleased  Thee  to  deliver  this 
our  brother  out  of  the  miseries  of  this  sinful  world,'  that  we 
remembered  the  agony  of  his  last  three  days  on  earth,  and 
we  could  be  glad  for  our  dear  friend  that  it  was  past.  We 
could  give  hearty  thanks,  but  it  was  for  him  and  him 
alone,   for   we   turn   with   heavy  hearts  to   our  homes,  feeling 


UT  ,2aJOVIYHJ3  AUH201  mZ  »Y^5IAa 
IHI^IUa  H^HW  HOTHOIHJ  Q^OJ  QHA 

<o^  jci  gfiloH  ,3  .8  ^'taasM  lo  noieaimisq  yd  »oJorlq  £  rnoiH 


CRYPT   UNDER  ST.  PAUL*S  CATHEDRAL,  WHERE 

BARRY,  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS,  TURNER, 

AND  LORD  LEIGHTON  WERE  BURIED 

From  a  photo,  by  permission  of  Messrs.  S.  B.  Bolas  &  Co. 


INTRODUCTION  33 

that  with    Frederic    Leighton    ever  so    much    kindness,    love, 
and  colour  has  gone  out  of  the  world." 

Attached   to  the  wreath  which  lay  on  his  coffin  were  the 
lines  written  by  our  Queen  : — 

"  Life's  race  well  run, 
Life's  work  well  done, 
Life's  crown  well  won, 
Now  comes  rest." 


In  Leighton's  own  letters,  more  than  is  possible  in  any 
other  written  words,  will  be  traced  those  qualities  of  character 
and  feeling  which  guided  the  rare  gifts  nature  had  bestowed. 
These,  used  with  unstinting  generosity  for  the  benefit  of 
others,  established  for  our  national  art  a  position,  cosmo- 
politan in  its  influence,  never  previously  attained  by  English 
painting  and  sculpture,  and  of  which  it  may  be  fairly  hoped, 
future  generations,  no  less  than  the  present,  may  reap  the 
benefit. 


VOL.  I. 


CHAPTER    I 

ANTECEDENTS  AND  SCHOOL  DAYS 
1830-1852 

Some  light  is  thrown  on   Leighton's  ancestry  by  the  following 

letter,  written  by  Sir  Baldwyn  Leighton  to  Sir  Albert  Woods, 

Garter,  at  the  time  when  a  peerage  was  bestowed  on  Frederic 

Leighton.      It  deals  with  the  question  of  associating  the  name 

of  Stretton  with  the  Barony, 

"Tabley  House,  Knutsford, 
Jatiuary  10,  1896. 

"  Dear  Sir, — In  answer  to  yours  of  January  9,  I  beg  to 
say  that  there  are  two  places  called  Stretton  in  the  County 
of  Salop ;  one,  now  known  as  Church  Stretton,  having  be- 
come a  small  town,  was  formerly  in  the  possession  of  my 
family  through  the  marriage  of  John  de  Leighton,  my  lineal 
ancestor,  with  the  daughter  and  heiress  of  William  Cambray 
of  Stretton  in  the  fourteenth  century,  whose  arms  we  still 
quarter  (see  Herald's  Visitation  for  Shropshire).  This  no 
longer  belongs  to  me,  having  been  mortgaged  and  sold  by 
Sir  Thomas  Leighton,  Kt.  Banneret,  temp.  Hen.  VIII. 
But  there  is  another  Stretton  in  the  parish  of  Alderbury 
with  Cardeston  which  does  still  belong  to  me,  and  has 
always  belonged  to  the  family  from  time  immemorial.  I 
have  been  in  communication  with  Sir  Frederic  Leicrhton  on 
the  subject,  and  it  is  my  wish  that  he  should  adopt  the 
supplemental  title  of  Stretton.  According  to  a  pedigree 
made  out  by  a  Shropshire  antiquarian  some  thirty  years  ago. 
Sir  Frederic's  branch  descends  from  the  younger  son  of  the 
John    de    Leighton   who    married    the    Cambray    heiress,    and 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  35 

who  was   admitted   burgess  of  Shrewsbury  in    1465.      There 

fore  I   am   of  opinion   that   it   ?s  a  very   proper  supplemental 

title  for  Sir  Frederic  to  assume. — I  remain,  yours,  &c., 

"  Baldwyn   Leighton. 
"To  Sir  Albert  Woods,  Garter." 


In  1862,  Leiofhton  writes  to  his  mother  : — 

"You  must  know  that  I  received  some  time  back  a  letter 
from  the  Rev.  JVm.  Leighton  (address,  Luciefelde,  Shrews- 
bury) asking  me  very  politely  to  give  him  whatever  infor- 
mation I  could  about  our  family,  as  he  was  making  a  pedigree 
of  the  Leighton  family,  and  was  anxious  to  find  out  some- 
thing about  a  branch  that  had  settled  and  been  lost  sight 
of  in  London.  I  answered  that  I  regretted  I  could  give 
him  no  definite  information  on  the  subject,  beyond  our  belief 
that  we  were  of  a  younger  branch  of  the  Shropshire  Leightons, 
whose  arms  and  crest  we  bore,  that  I  knew  personally  nothing 
of  my  family  further  back  than  my  grandfather,  telling  him 
who  and  what  he  was.  I  ended  by  referring  him  to  Papa, 
to  whom  I  immediately  wrote,  telling  him  the  nature  of 
Mr.  Leighton's  request,  and  begging  him  to  write  to  him  at 
once  in  case  he  could  give  him  any  clue  that  might  facilitate 
his  researches.  I  then  received  a  second,  and  very  inter- 
esting, letter  from  Mr.  L.  telling  me  that  he  had  found  in 
Yorkshire  some  Leightons  (I  forget  the  Christian  names,  but 
not  Robert)  who  claimed  to  descend  from  the  Shropshire 
stock,  and  whose  crest  differed  from  the  Leighton  crest  exactly 
as  ours  does,  i.e.  in  the  forzuard  expansion  of  the  right  wing 
of  the  Wyvern  ;  a  peculiarity,  by  the  by,  which  did  not 
appear  to  be  of  weight  with  him.  There  was  more  in  this 
letter  which  I  don't  clearly  remember,  but  nothing  establishing 
our  claim  ;  this  letter  I  immediately  forwarded  to  you,  and 
since  then  both  myself  and  Mr,  Leighton  have  been  waiting 
to  hear  from  Papa." 


36  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

The  conclusion  arrived  at  from  these  inquiries  was — that, 
three  or  four  hundred  years  ago,  the  descendants  of  John  de 
Leighton  and  the  Cambray  heiress  migrated  from  Shropshire 
to  Yorkshire,  and  that  Leighton's  grandfather,  Sir  James 
Leighton,  court  physician  to  the  Emperor  Nicholas  of  Russia, 
was  a  descendant  of  this  branch.  Dr.  Leighton,  the  artist's 
father,  married  the  daughter  of  George  Augustus  Nash  of 
Edmonton.  He  and  his  wife,  early  in  their  married  life, 
went  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  it  was  supposed  that  he  would 
probably  succeed  his  father  as  court  physician  to  the  Czar, 
who  favoured  Sir  James  Leighton  with  his  intimacy ;  but 
the  climate  of  St.  Petersburg  not  suiting  Mrs.  Leighton's 
health,  they  remained  there  but  a  few  years.  It  was  at  St. 
Petersburg  that  the  two  eldest  children  were  born,  Fanny, 
who  died  young,  and  Alexandra,  the  god-child  of  the  Empress 
Alexandra,  who  became  Mrs.  Sutherland  Orr.  From  St. 
Petersburg,  the  family  moved  to  Scarborough,  and  it  was  at 
Scarborough,  on  December  3,  1830,  that  the  most  famous 
member  of  the  Leighton  family  was  born.  The  question  as 
to  which  was  the  actual  house  in  which  the  event  took  place 
was  satisfactorily  settled  at  the  time  when  Leighton  was  raised 
to  the  peerage,  in  letters  which  appeared  in  the  press, — one 
containing  the  testimony  of  Mrs.  Anne  Thorley,  who  was  in 
Dr.  Leighton's  service  for  three  years  with  the  family  at 
Scarborough,  and  for  two  years  after  they  moved  to  London. 
She  affirms  that  Leighton  was  born  in  the  house  in  Bruns- 
wick Terrace,  now  numbered  13,  but  which  at  that  time 
consisted  only  of  three  houses.  Mrs.  Thorley  adds,  "Fred's 
mother  was  a  splendid  lady  —  such  a  good  one  with  her 
children,   and  most  affectionate." 

A  second  son  named  James,  who  died  in  his  infancy,  was 
also  born  at  Scarborough,  and  five  years  after  the  birth  of 
Leighton  his  younger  sister  Augusta,  now  Mrs.  Matthews, 
was  born  in   London. 


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ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL    DAYS  37 

Dr.  Leighton  had  every  prospect  of  excelling  among  those 
most  distinguished  in  his  profession.  Deafness,  however,  by 
which  he  was  unfortunately  attacked  about  that  time,  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  practise  any  longer  as  a  physician. 
Deprived  of  his  active  work,  he  turned  his  attention  to  more 
abstract  lines  of  study,  and  to  philosophy. 

In  1840,  Mrs.  Leighton,  after  a  severe  illness,  required  a 
drier  climate  than  that  of  England,  and  the  family  travelled  on 
the  Continent,  visiting  Germany,  Switzerland,  and  Italy. 

Family  annals  record  the  delight  with  which  Leighton,  the 
boy  of  ten,  enjoyed  the  beauty  of  nature  in  Switzerland,  the 
flowers  and  everything  he  saw  in  the  land  of  mountains.  When 
he  reached  Rome,  the  buildings,  the  fountains,  the  ruins,  the 
models  awaiting  hire  on  the  Piazza  di  Spagna,  fascinated  him, 
and  he  filled  many  sketch-books  with  records  of  all  the  picturesque 
scenes  that  struck  him  as  so  new  and  wonderful.  From  earliest 
days,  drawing  was  Leighton's  greatest  amusement,  and  he  had 
it  always  in  his  own  mind  that  he  would  be  an  artist  and  no- 
thing else.  When  in  Rome,  he  was  allowed  to  study  drawing 
under  Signor  Meli,  but  his  father  insisted  on  other  lessons 
being  carried  on  with  regularity  and  industry.  We  hear  of  his 
elder  sister  and  Leighton  learning  Latin  together  from  a  young 
priest.  Dr.  Leighton  had  a  commanding  intelligence,  and 
made  his  will  felt.  As  with  many  fond  fathers  who  centre 
their  chief  interest  on  an  only  son,  and  foster  thoughts  of  a 
notable  future  for  him,  Dr.  Leighton  seems  to  have  felt  that 
the  greater  his  interest  and  affection,  the  greater  must  be  the 
exercise  of  strict  discipline  over  his  boy.  Leighton  received, 
to  say  the  least,  a  stern  upbringing  from  his  father,  mitigated, 
however,  by  the  greatest  tenderness  from  his  mother.  The 
boy's  will  respecting  his  future  career  proved  sufficient  for  the 
occasion,  and  he  had  reason  to  be  thankful  that  the  general 
knowledge,  which  Dr.  Leighton  insisted  on  his  acquiring,  was 
instilled  at  so  early  an  age.      From  the  time  he  was  ten  years 


38  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

old  he  was  made  to  study  the  classics,  and  at  twelve  he  spoke 
French  and  Italian  as  fluently  as  English.  Dr.  Leighton  had 
himself  taught  the  boy  anatomy,  ever  cherishing  the  hope 
that  he  would,  when  he  came  to  years  of  discretion,  renounce 
the  idea  of  being  an  artist,  and  follow  in  the  footsteps  of 
his  father  and  grandfather  by  becoming  a  doctor.  In  either 
case  a  knowledge  of  anatomy  was  thought  necessary,  and, 
in  after  years,  Leighton  declared  he  knew  much  more 
anatomy  when  he  was  fourteen  than  he  did  when  he  was 
President  of  the  Royal  Academy.  "I  owe,"  he  said,  "my 
knowledge  to  my  father.  He  would  teach  me  the  names  of 
the  bones  and  the  muscles.  He  would  show  them  to  me  in 
action  and  in  repose  ;  then  I  would  have  to  draw  them  from 
memory ;  until  my  memory  drawing  was  perfect,  he  would 
not  let  it  pass." 

The  family  returned  to  England  for  the  summer  of  1841, 
spending  it  at  the  paternal  grandfather's  country  house  at 
Greenford  ;  and  durino-  the  followino-  winter  Leiofhton  studied 
at  the  University  College  School  in  London.  Mrs.  Leighton's 
health  again  declined  in  England,  and  the  family  migrated  to 
Germany,  the  country  chosen  by  Dr.  Leighton  as  that  in  which 
the  education  of  the  children  could  be  best  carried  forward, 
Leighton  studied  under  tutors  at  Berlin,  it  being  only  in  his 
spare  moments  that  he  found  time  to  sketch,  or  to  visit  the 
galleries.  Then  followed  a  move  to  Frankfort,  and  thence  to 
Florence.  There  he  was  allowed  to  enter  the  studio  of  Bez- 
zuoli  and  Servolini,  celebrated  artists  in  Florence,  but  of  whose 
real  greatness  Leighton,  even  at  that  early  age,  entertained  his 
doubts.  It  was  in  Florence  that  the  father's  will  had  finally  to 
submit  to  the  son's  passion  for  his  vocation.  Dr.  Leighton 
was  too  wise  to  allow  prejudice  to  affect  his  serious  actions. 
He  could  no  longer  blind  himself  to  the  fact,  that  this  desire 
to  be  an  artist  was  a  vital  matter  with  his  son.  He  felt  it 
would  be  wrong  to  try  and  override  the  boy's  desires  without 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  39 

seeking  the  opinion  of  an  expert  on  art  matters  as  to  whether 
there  was  any  probabiHty  of  Leighton  excelling.  He  therefore 
took  him  and  his  drawings  to  Hiram  Powers,  the  sculptor,  for 
the  verdict  to  be  given.  The  well-known  conversation  took 
place  after  Powers  had  examined  the  work. 

"Shall  I  make  him  a  painter?"  asked  Dr.  Leighton. 

"  Sir,  you  cannot  help  yourself ;  nature  has  made  him  one 
already,"  answered  the  sculptor. 

"  What  can  he  hope  for,  if  I  let  him  prepare  for  this 
career  ? " 

"  Let  him  aim  at  the  highest,"  answered  Powers  ;  "  he  will 
be  certain  to  get  there." 

Leighton  had  won  :  he  had  now  to  prove  good  his  cause. 
Even  though  theoretically  his  father  had  given  in,  he  yet 
hoped  that,  as  years  went  on,  a  change  in  his  boy's  views 
might  come  about ;  but  he  was  allowed  to  work  at  the  Acca- 
demia  delle  belle  Arti,  under  Bezzuoli  and  Servolini,  and 
besides  continuing  his  study  of  anatomy  with  his  father, 
Leighton  attended  classes  in  the  hospital  under  Zanetti.  Of 
this  time  in  Florence,  one  of  his  life-long  friends,  Professor 
Costa,  writes  :  "  I  knew,  both  from  himself  and  from  his  fellow- 
students,  that  at  the  age  of  fourteen  Leighton  studied  at  the 
Academy  of  Florence  under  Bezzuoli  and  Servolini,  who  at 
this  time  (1842)  had  a  great  reputation.  They  were  cele- 
brated Florentines,  excellent  good  men,  but  they  could  give 
but  little  light  to  this  star,  which  was  to  become  one  of  the 
first  magnitude.  Leighton,  from  his  innate  kindness,  loved 
and  esteemed  his  old  masters  much,  though  not  agreeing  in 
the  judgment  of  his  fellow-students  that  they  should  be  con- 
sidered on  the  same  level  as  the  ancient  Florentines.  *  And 
who  have  you,'  said  Leighton  one  day  to  a  certain  Bettino 
(who  is  still  living),  '  who  resembles  your  ancient  masters  ? ' 
And  Bettino  answered,  '  We  have  still  to-day  our  great 
Michael    Angelos,   and   Raffaels,   in   Bezzuoli,    in  Servolini,   in 


40  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Ciseri.'  But  this  boy  of  twelve  years  old  could  not  believe 
this,  and  one  fine  day  got  into  the  diligence,  and  left  the 
Academy  of  Florence  to  return  to  England.  Although  the 
diligence  went  at  a  great  pace,  his  fellow-students  followed 
it  on  foot,  running  behind  it,  crying,  'Come  back,  Inglesino! 
come  back,  Inglesino!  come  back,'  so  much  was  he  loved  and 
respected.  He  did  come  back,  in  fact,  many  times  to  Italy, 
which  he  considered  as  his  second  fatherland." 

It  was,  however,  at  Frankfort,  where  the  family  settled 
in  1843,  that  Leighton  fell  under  the  real,  living  art  influence 
of  his  life,  in  the  person  of  Steinle.  Leighton  described  this 
artist  later  as  "an  intensely  fervent  Catholic,  a  man  of  most 
striking  personality,  and  of  most  courtly  manners."  In  the 
temperament  of  this  religious  Catholic  was  united  a  fervour 
of  feeling  with  a  pure  severity  in  the  style  of  his  art  which 
belonged  to  the  school  of  the  Nazarenes,  of  which  Steinle  was 
a  follower,  Overbeck  and  Pfuhler  having  led  the  way.  A 
spiritual  ardour  and  spontaneity  placed  Steinle  on  a  higher 
level  as  an  artist  than  that  on  which  the  rest  of  the  brother- 
hood stood.  Leighton,  boy  as  he  was,  at  once  realised  in 
his  master  the  existence  of  that  "sincerity  of  emotion," — 
to  use  his  own  words  when  preaching,  nearly  forty  years 
later,  to  the  Royal  Academy  students ;  a  quality  ever  con- 
sidered by  him  as  an  essential  attribute  of  the  true  artist- 
nature — of  that  inner  vision  of  the  religious  poet,  of  that 
finer  fibre  of  temperament  which  endowed  art  in  Leighton's 
eyes  with  higher  qualities  than  science  or  philosophy  alone 
could  ever  include.  Steinle  viewed  art  with  the  reverence 
and  nobility  of  feeling  which  accorded  with  those  aspirations 
that  had  been  hinted  to  the  boy's  nature  in  his  best  moments, 
but  which  had  had  no  sufficiently  clear,  decisive  outline 
to  inspire  hitherto  his  actual  performances.  In  Steinle's 
work  he  found  the  positive  expression  of  those  aspira- 
tions ;    there,    in    such    art,    was   an    absolute    confutation    of 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  41 

the  creed  that  art  was  but  a  pleasant  recreation,  havino-  no 
backbone  in  it  to  influence  the  serious  work  of  the  world  ; 
the  creed  which  meant  that,  if  taken  up  as  a  profession,  it 
led  but  to  the  making  of  money  by  amusing  the  aesthetic  sense 
of  the  public  in  a  superficial  manner.  The  view  taken  by  the 
magnates — the  "Barbarians"  of  the  time — was,  that  unless  a 
painter  were  a  Raphael,  a  Titian,  or  a  Reynolds,  his  position 
was  little  removed  from  that  of  the  second-rate  actor  or  the 
dancer.  It  was  not  the  profession,  but  the  individual  pro- 
minence in  it  which  alone  saved  the  situation.  In  Steinle, 
Leighton  found  an  exponent  of  art,  who  reverenced  the 
vocation  of  art  itself  as  one  which  should  be  sanctified  by 
the  purest  aims  and  the  highest  aspirations. 

In  the  nature  of  one  who  exercises  a  stronof  influence  over 
another  is  often  found  the  real  clue  to  the  nature  influenced. 
Circumstances  had  led  Leighton  to  be  reserved  with  regard 
to  his  deepest  feelings  respecting  art,  but  with  Steinle  that 
reserve  vanished.  Under  the  influence  of  this  master  he 
realised  an  adequate  cause  for  this  deep-rooted,  peremptory 
passion.  Steinle's  nature  explains  that  of  his  pupil ;  for 
Leighton  was,  in  an  intimate  sense,  introduced  to  a  full 
knowledge  of  his  own  self  by  Steinle.  This  influence,  to  use 
his  own  words,  written  more  than  thirty  years  later,  was  the 
"indelible  seal,"  because  it  made  Leighton  one  with  himself. 
The  impress  was  given  which  steadied  the  whole  nature. 
There  was  no  vagueness  of  aim,  no  swaying  to  and  fro,  after 
he  had  once  made  Steinle  his  master.  The  religious  nature 
also  of  the  German  artist  had  thrown  a  certain  spell  over  him. 
Leighton  possessed  ever  the  most  beautiful  of  all  qualities — the 
power  of  feeling  enthusiasm,  of  loving-  unselfishly,  and  gene- 
rously adoring  what  he  admired  most.  Fortunate,  it  may 
possibly  have  been,  that  his  father's  strict  training  developed 
his  splendid  intellectual  powers  at  an  early  age  ;  fortunate  it 
certainly  was,  that,  when  emancipated  from  other  trammels,  he 


42  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

entered  the  service  of  art  under  an  influence  so  pure,  so  vital 
in  spiritual  passion  as  was  that  of  Steinle. 

However,  it  was  not  till  Leighton  reached  the  age  of 
seventeen  that  he  was  allowed  to  give  his  time  uninterruptedly 
to  the  study  of  art.  At  that  age  he  had  acquired  sufficient 
knowledge  of  the  classics  and  of  the  general  lines  of  knowledge 
even  to  satisfy  his  father.  He  had  also  completely  mastered 
the  German,  French,  and  Italian  languages.  The  vitality  of 
his  brain  was  almost  abnormal,  otherwise  his  constitution  was 
not  strong.  Constantly  such  phrases  as  "  1  am  not  ill,  but 
I  am  never  well "  occur  in  his  letters,  and  he  suffered  from 
weakness  and  heat,  also  from  "blots"  in  his  eyes,  perhaps  the 
result  of  scarlet  fever,  which  he  had  as  a  child.  His  school 
days  seem  to  have  had  their  niauvais  vioments.  When  he  was 
fifteen,  his  parents  and  elder  sister  went  to  England,  leaving 
him  and  his  little  sister  at  school  during-  their  holidavs.  The 
love  for  his  mother,  and  his  longing  to  be  with  her,  is  told 
in  the  following  pathetic  appeal : — 

"  Frankfort  a/M., 

Friday^  June  26,  1845. 

"[Dear  Mamma], — Your  letter,  which  I  have  just  received, 
caused  me  the  greatest  pleasure,  for  I  have  been  anxiously 
expecting  it  for  three  long  days.  I  am  very  pleased  to  hear 
that  Lina  is  getting  stronger,  though  slowly,  and  hope  that 
Hampstead  will  agree  with  her  and  you  better  than  London. 
I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that  you  are  not  very  well.  I  hope 
that  the  country  will  refresh  Papa  after  all  his  fatigues.  I  need 
not  tell  you  that  I  was  very  unhappy  when  I  heard  what  you 
said  about  my  going  to  England ;  ever  since  I  have  been 
here,  from  the  time  I  wake  to  the  time  I  go  to  bed,  I  think 
of  London  ;  the  other  night,  indeed,  I  went  in  my  dream  to 
see  the  new  British  Museum.  However,  if  there  is  nothing 
to  be  done.  .   .   .   From  Hampstead  you  can  see   London,  and 


,0VHWA5IC  .'J^IAH 


EARLY  COMIC  DRAWING.     About  1850 
By  permission  of  Mr.  Hanson  "Walker 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  43 

there  is  the  dear  old  common  where  I  and  the  Coodes  used 
to  play,  and  the  pretty  little  lake  where  I  went  to  slide,  and 
it's  such  a  pleasant  walk  to  London  and  the  galleries,  and 
...  is  there  no  little  hole  left  for  poor  Punch  ?  ^  On  the 
1 6th  July  all  the  schoolboys  go  on  a  three  weeks'  journey, 
whose  wing  but  yours  can  take  care  of  me  for  so  long  a 
time  ^  I  will  ask  for  money  to  buy  a  clothes-brush,  I  have 
none  ;  2  fl.  I  spent  on  water-colours  for  the  painting  lesson, 
5  fl.  a  splendid  book,  *  Percy's  Relics  of  Old  English  Poetry,' 
I  fl.  sundries,  my  last  florin  I  lent  to  Bob,  but  he  was  fetched 
away  in  a  hurry  before  his  money  was  given  to  him,  however 
he  said  he  would  send  it  me  from  Mayence,  but  I  have  not 
seen  it  since.  It  is  a  great  bore  to  have  no  money  ;  that 
I  fl.  would  have  lasted  the  second  month  very  well  as  I 
only  want  it  for  sundries.  I  have  dismissed  Mottes,  my  new 
boots  have  already  been  resoled,  and  he  made  me  wait  three 
weeks  for  a  pair  of  boots,  which  of  course  I  did  not  take. 
I  wish  I  had  had  turning  clothes,  my  jacket  is  very  shabby, 
and  I  cannot  afford  to  put  on  my  best  whilst  it  goes  to  the 
tailor  ;  my  black  trowsers  are  ruined,  but  I  must  wear  them 
whilst  my  blue  ones  go  to  be  lengthened.  Little  Gussy  looks 
very  well,  she  is  very  well,  and  has  sundry  '  zufrieden's '  and 
*  tres  content's.'  On  the  advice  of  Pappe,  the  master  of 
mathematics  and  nat.  phil,  I  have  got  a  '  Meierhirsch's  Alge- 
braische  Aufgaben.'  I  want  a  Euclid,  mine  is  in  England, 
how  shall  I  get  at  it  ?  I  am  quite  well,  but  long  to  see  you 
all,  and  to  have  some  zving ;  pray  write  very  soon.  Give  my 
best  love  to  Papa  and  Lina,  and  believe  me,  dear  Mamma, 
your  affectionate  and  speckfle  son,  F.    Leighton." 

History  does  not  record  whether  the  "  litde  hole  for  poor 
Punch  "  had  been  found  or  not.     Together  with  other  studies, 

^  In  the  winter  of  1845  Leighton  went  to  a  children's  costume  ball  in  Florence 
as  Punch,  and  for  some  time  after  the  name  clung  to  him  in  his  family. 


44  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Leiorhton  was  allowed  to  attend  the  model  class  at  the  famous 
Staedelsches  Institut,  and,  in  1848,  when  the  family  went  to 
Brussels,  he  painted  his  first  picture,  Othello  and  Desdemona, 
his  elder  sister  sitting  as  model  for  the  Desdemona,  and  also 
a  portrait  of  himself.  From  Brussels  he  went  to  Paris,  study- 
ing in  an  atelier  in  the  Rue  Richer,  among  a  set  of  Bohemian 
students,  and  then  to  Frankfort,  to  work  seriously  under  his 
beloved  master  Steinle.  The  following  letter  to  his  father 
shows  how  unsatisfactory  he  considers  his  studies  had  been 
in  both  Brussels  and  Paris,  and  that  now,  as  he  expressed 
it,   he   is  girding  his   "loins  for  a   new   race." 

"Cronberg,  Friday  evening. 

"  [Dear  Papa], — As  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  you  are 
not  indifferent  to  the  fate  of  the  studies  which  met  with 
Dielmann's  censure,  and  at  the  same  time  opened  my  eyes 
to  the  fact  that  I  have  not  yet  (to  use  a  German  phrase) 
'  die  Natur  mit  dem  Loffel  gefressen,'  ^  I  now  write  to  tell 
you  that  I  have  retouched  better  parts  of  them,  and  that  to 
Burner's  satisfaction  as  well  as  to  mine.  Of  course  some  are 
better  than  others.  Independently  of  the  intense  irritation 
which  bad  sitting  (as  well  you  know)  occasions  to  my  nerves, 
they  give  me  great  trouble,  and  I  take  it ;  but  this  can  hardly 
astonish  me,  when  I  consider  that,  in  point  of  fact,  during  the 
whole  time  that  has  elapsed  between  my  leaving  the  model 
class  in  the  Staedelsches  Institut  up  to  my  return  to  Frankfurt, 
I  have  7iever  studied  from  nature  ;  that  I  did  not  in  Brussels, 
I  need  not  remind  you,  and  you  must  also  remember  that 
everything  I  painted  in  Paris,  in  the  way  of  portraits,  was 
done  before  nature,  I  grant,  but  with  a  certain  ideal  colour  or 
tone,  the  consistency  of  which  might  be  illustrated  by  putting 
Rubens,  Reynolds,  Titian,  Tom  Lawrence,  Vandyke,  Velas- 
quez,   Correggio,    Carracci,    Rembrandt,    and    Raf^iel    into    a 

^  Literally,  "devoured  nature  with  a  spoon." 


ANTECEDENTS   AND    SCHOOL    DAYS  45 

kaleidoscope,   and    setting    them    in    a    rotatory   motion,    in    a 

word — 

When  taken 
Well  shaken. 

(What's  his  name — Hem  !) 

I  am  therefore  girding  my  loins  for  a  new  race,  far  from 
discouraged,  but  rather  with  the  persuasion  that  one  with  my 
innate  love  for  colouring,  and,  I  think  I  may  add,  sharp  per- 
ception of  the  merits  and  demerits  of  the  colouring  of  others, 
has  a  fair  chance  of  success ;  nor  am  I  dissatisfied  with  my 
beginning." 

In  the  year  1849,  he  went  to  London  to  paint  the  portrait 
of  his  great-uncle,  Mr.  I' Anson,  Lady  Leighton's  brother,  and 
wrote  to  his  father  and  mother  the  following  : — 

"Fleeced  at  Malines — very  fine  passage — slept  well,  why 
the  deuce  had  not  I  a  carpet  bag  ?  horrid  inconvenience !  my 
chest  of  drawers  twenty  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  deck, 
obliged  to  get  on  friendly  terms  with  a  sailor  to  borrow  a  comb 
(which  had  got  blue  with  usage) — lovely  brown  tints  about  my 
shirt,  cuffs  more  picturesque  than  tidy  ;  two  hours  stifling  in 
that  confounded  hole  of  a  waiting-room  in  the  custom  house  ; 
arrive  at  last  at  Mr.  I'Anson's  at  about  three  o'clock ;  as  he 
was  not  at  home  I  dressed  and  ran  half  round  London  before 
dinner  ;  crossed  Kensington  Gardens,  saw  the  outside  of  the 
Exhibition,  went  down  Hyde  Park,  along  Green  Park,  stared 
at  Buckingham  Palace,  rushed  down  St.  James'  Park,  flew 
up  Waterloo  Place,  made  a  dive  at  Trafalgar  Square,  and  a 
lunge  at  Pall  Mall,  gasped  all  along  Regent  Street,  turned  up 
Oxford  Street,  bent  round  to  the  Edgware  Road,  and  from 
there  the  whole  length  of  Oxford  Terrace,  I  brought  home 
a  very  fine  appetite  !  " 


46  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

"  [My  dearest  Mother], — I  have  resumed  my  Uncle's 
likeness,  and  as  far  as  it  goes  (the  head  is  done)  very  success- 
fully. Will  you  tell  Papa  from  me  that  it  is  more  '  aufgefasst ' 
(as  I  expected)  than  '  durchgefiihrt,'  but  that  I  have  seized  the 
twinkle  of  his  mouth  to  a  T. 

"  Mr.  I'Anson  treats  me  with  the  utmost  kindness,  it  is  of 
course  superfluous  to  tell  you  that  I  enjoy  myself  beyond 
measure. 

"  I  am  a  very  slow  writer — I  am  without  readiness  either 
of  thought  or  speech  owing  to  the  picturesque  confusion  which 
possesses  my  brain,  and  not,  God  knows,  from  a  phlegmatic 
habit  of  mind." 

Letter  to  his  mother  from  Norfolk  Terrace,  Hyde  Park  : — 

"  [Dearest  Mother], — I  have  received  your  kind  letter, 
and  conclude  from  your  silence  on  that  point  that  Lina  is 
now  getting  on  well.  In  order  to  avoid  losing  time  on  fluency 
of  style,  I  shall  follow,  strictly  as  I  find  them,  the  heads  of 
your  epistle,  and  answer  them  in  the  same  succession.  First, 
I  hasten  to  thank  you  and  Papa  for  your  kind  permission  to 
prolong  my  stay,  a  permission  which  I  value  the  more  that 
I  know  that  Papa  was  desirous  I  should  return  as  soon  as 
possible.  You  tell  me,  dear  Mamma,  that  I  am  not  to  lose 
time  in  seeing  the  lions  of  London,  and  Papa,  in  his  displeasure 
at  my  having  done  so  little  as  yet  towards  the  real  object  of 
my  visit,  seems  to  imply  an  idea  that  I  have  been  so  doing  ;  I 
regret  very  much  that  you  should  entertain  that  notion,  and 
assure  you  that  I  have  neither  hitherto  dreamt,  nor  have 
ultimate  intention,  of  seeing  that  long  list  of  wonders,  the 
Colosseum,  the  polytechnic,  the  cosmorama,  the  diorama,  the 
panorama,  the  polyorama,  the  overland  mail,  Catlin's  exhibition, 
the  Chinese  exhibition,  nor  even  Wild's  great  globe,  for  that, 
I  am  told,  costs  five  shillings  ;  this  is  a  decided  case  of  *  Frappe, 


ANTECEDENTS   AND    SCHOOL   DAYS  47 

mais  ^coute.'  And  if  Papa  did  not  think  that  I  had  so  wasted 
my  time,  is  it  not  very  certain  that,  if  I  had  not  thought  it 
a  matter  of  duty,  I  would  not  have  tired  myself  making  what 
I  most  hate,  calls,  instead  of  seeinc^  works  of  art  ? 

"  Lady  Leighton  looked  in  some  respects  worse,  and  in 
some  much  better,  than  I  expected  ;  I  was  surprised  to  see 
her  walk  with  her  back  bent,  and  leaning  on  a  stick ;  but  I  was 
more  surprised  still  to  see  a  face  so  free,  comparatively,  from 
wrinkles,  and  bearing  such  evident  traces  of  former  beauty. 
Her  reception  was  of  the  warmest ;  in  her  anxiety  lest  I 
should  be  lonely  and  uncomfortable  in  an  inn,  she  insisted  on 
my  sleeping  in  her  house.  She  talked  much,  long,  and  well, 
though  slowly  and  in  a  suppressed  tone  ;  she  dwelt  tenderly 
on  Papa's  name,  and  advocated  warmly  our  return  to  England. 
I  saw  two  letters  which  she  wrote  to  her  brother,  my  uncle, 
and  which  were  both  most  elegantly  written  ;  both  contained 
a  paragraph  in  allusion  to  me ;  in  the  first,  written  before  my 
visit  (in  answer  to  one  in  which  my  uncle  had  prepared  her  for 
seeing  me),  she  expresses  herself  most  eager  to  receive  and  to 
love  the  grandson,  of  whom  all  speak  so  highly  ;  in  the  second, 
written  after  my  return  to  London,  she  says  that  her  dear  and 
fascinating  grandso7i  amply  realises  all  her  expectations,  and 
that  seeing  him  has  increased  that  pain  which  she  feels  at 
being  separated  from  us  all. 

"  Now,  I  will  give  you  a  catalogue  raisonnd  of  whom  I  have 
seen  :  Cowpers,  this  you  know  ;  Smyths,  ditto  ;  Laings,  very 
kind,  though  Mr.  Laing,  like  the  Cowpers,  did  not  know  me 
till  I  mentioned  my  name  ;  Wests,  exceedingly  kind,  invitation 
to  dinner  :  Richardsons,  motherly  reception,  party,  given  for 
me  ;  Moffatt,  very  pr^ve7ta?it,  asked  me  twice  to  dinner,  both 
of  which  invitations  I  was  unfortunately  obliged  to  refuse,  but 
wrote  a  very  civil  note,  and  w^ent  next  morning  in  person  to 
apologise  ;  Hall,  dreadfully  busy,  but  gave  me  cards  to  Maclise, 
Goodall,   Frith,  Ward,   Frost ;   Maclise  was  not  at  home,   but 


48  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

I  found  Goodall,  Ward,  and  Frith,  and  was  pleased  with  my 
visits.  There  is  a  new  school  in  England,  and  a  very  promis- 
ing one  ;  correctly  drawn  historical  genre  seems  to  me  the  best 
definition  of  it.  They  tell  me  there  is  a  fine  opening  for  an 
historical  painter  of  merit,  and  that  talent  never  fails  to  succeed 
in  London.  Goodall,  a  young  man  about  thirty,  who  painted 
*  The  Village  Festival,'  in  the  Vernon  Gallery,  and  of  which 
you  have  an  engraving  in  one  of  your  Art  Journal  numbers, 
sells  his  pictures  direct  from  the  easel ;  and  he  does  not  stand 
alone.  Sir  Ch.  Eastlake  received  me  very  politely,  but  looks 
a  great  invalid  ;  Lance,  very  jolly,  and  Fripp,  ditto.  Bovills 
and  E.  I'Ansons,  very  kind,  invitations,  of  course  ;  Mackens, 
you  know  ;  I  have  found  no  time  to  call  on  Dr.  Holland,  Mr. 
Shedden,  or  Tusons. 

"  Having  told  you  whom,  I  will  now  tell  you  rapidly  what, 
I  have  seen  :  Vernon  Gallery,  very  much  gratified  ;  Dulwich 
Gallery,  very  much  disappointed  ;  British  Institution,  ditto  ; 
National  Gallery,  pictures  magnificent,  locality  disgraceful,  I 
must  make  another  visit  there  ;  Royal  Academy,  on  the  whole, 
satisfactory  ;  British  Museum,  very  fine  ;  Mogford's  Collection, 
very  indifferent ;  Marquis  of  Westminster  (Mr.  Laing),  very 
fine  indeed  ;  private  collection  (through  interest  of  Mr.  MofTatt), 
delightful ;  Windsor,  Vandyke,  superb  ;  Lawrence,  a  wretched 
quack.     Time  presses — la  suite  au  pro  chain  num^ro.'' 

The  portrait  of  his  great-uncle,  Mr.  I'Anson,  here  repro- 
duced, proves  that  the  visit  to  London  effected  the  desired 
result.  On  his  return  to  Frankfort  he  painted  the  portraits  of 
Lady  Cowley  and  her  three  children.  Lady  Cowley  writes  : 
"  I  am  delighted  with  the  pictures  of  my  dear  little  girls,  and 
again  return  you  my  most  sincere  thanks  for  having  painted 
them."  And  in  another  letter  :  "  I  should  have  called  on  Mrs. 
Leighton  all  these  days,  had  I  not  been  very  unwell  with  the 
grippe,  as  I  wished  to  express  to  her,  as  well  as  to  yourself, 
how  very  grateful    I   am  for   the  beautiful   portrait   you   have 


MR.  I'ANSON,  LORD  LEIGHTON'S  GREAT-UNCLE.     1850 
By  permission  of  Mr.  E.  I 'Anson 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL    DAYS  49 

made  of  my  little  Frederick.  I  am  quite  delighted  with  it, 
as  well  as  every  one  else  who  has  seen  it.  Besides  bein^ 
extremely  like,  it  is  such  a  good  painting  that  it  must  always 
be  appreciated.  Ever  yours  sincerely,  Olive  Cecilia  Cowley." 
In  the  spring  of  1852,  Leighton,  being  then  twenty-one,  went 
to  Bergheim,  to  paint  the  portraits  of  Count  Bentinck's  family. 
He  writes  from  there  : — 

"  [Dearest  Mamma], — Having  naturally  a  reflecting  turn  of 
mind,  I  am  struck  with  the  truth  of  the  following  aphorism  : 
*  It's  all  very  well  to  say  I'll  be  blowed,  but  where's  the  wind?' 
Circumstances  induce  me  to  deliver  a  sentiment  of  a  parallel 
tendency  ;  it's  all  very  well  to  say  '  mind  you  write ' ;  but 
where's  the  post.''  A  deficiency  in  that  latter  commodity  is  a 
leading  feature  in  the  economy  of  the  principality  of  Waldeck  ; 
so  much  so,  that  any  individual  residing  in  Bergheim,  and 
desiring  to  carry  on  a  correspondence  '  ins  Ausland,'  is  obliged 
to  take  advantage  of  the  privilege  freely  granted  him  by  the 
liberal  constitution  of  the  country  of  carrying  his  own  letters  to 
the  first  frontier  town  of  the  next  state,  and  having  posted  them, 
waiting  for  an  answer.  I,  however,  knowing  my  privileges,  and 
not  being  desirous  of  availing  myself  of  them  in  that  line, 
humbly  and  modestly  send  these  lines  by  my  hostess's  flunkey, 
who  is  going  to  Fritzlar  to-morrow  on  an  errand  of  a  similar 
description.  N.B. — If  you  want  a  person  to  receive  an  epistle 
within  a  fortnight  (that  is  allowing  you  to  be  a  neighbour), 
you  must  chalk  up  per  express  on  the  back  of  it,  in  considera- 
tion of  which  he  or  she  will  receive  it  through  the  medium 
of  a  hot  messenger,  much,  and  naturally,  fatigued  and  ex- 
cited by  a  journey  performed  at  the  rate  of  half  a  mile  an 
hour,  not  including  the  pauses  in  which  the  inner  man  is 
refreshed  and  invigorated  by  a  cordial  gulp  of  '  branny  un 
worrer.' 

"  Fancy    a    man    getting    to    a    place,     by    appointment, 

VOL.   I.  D 


50  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

expecting  a  carriage  and  trimmings  to  take  him  to  a  lovely 
retirement  in  the  country,  and  finding — devil  a  bit  of  it ! 
Well  that's  precisely  what  did  not  happen  to  me  when  I 
got  to  Waldeck,  because  although  the  carriage  was  not  there, 
there  was  a  letter  to  say  it  could  not  come.  The  road  to 
Bergheim,  which  crosses  a  river  of  no  mean  pretensions 
without  the  assistance  of  a  bridge  (other  advantageous  pecu- 
liarity of  the  state  of  Waldeck),  was,  it  appeared,  rendered 
impracticable  by  an  inundation  of  the  torrent  alluded  to  ;  it 
was  therefore  proposed  to  me  (without  an  option)  to  perform 
the  journey  on  the  top  of  an  oss  provided  for  the  purpose 
and  accompanied  by  a  groom  mounted  on  another  ;  I  will- 
ingly accept  an  offer  so  much  to  my  taste,  and  for  the  first 
time  after  a  lapse  of  nearly  three  years  put  a  leg  on  each 
side  of  a  steed.  The  first  part  of  the  road  was  executed  at  a 
round  trot  on  a  very  nice  level  chaussde,  but  I  cannot  say  that 
I  felt  altogether  at  home  on  my  saddle.  An  eye  to  effect 
is  nevertheless  kept  open,  which  is  manifested  by  my  catching 
up  two  drowsy,  drawling,  jingling  '  po  shays'  and  sweeping 
past  them  with  supreme  contempt,  but  at  a  great  expense  of 
my  lumbar  muscles.  Presently,  however,  my  continuation-clad 
members  began  to  thaw  a  little,  and  to  adapt  themselves  to 
the  saddle,  which  also  lost  some  of  its  rigid  severity  ;  I  began 
to  feel  very  comfortable,  and,  by  Jove!  it  was  a  good  job  I 
did,  for  on  getting  out  of  Fritzlar,  we  left  the  high  road  (for 
reasons  above  given)  and  plunged  into  a  rugged,  donkey- 
shay  sort  of  by-path  in  which  the  ruts  were  without  exag- 
geration a  foot  deep.  Nothing  daunted,  however,  I  make 
light  of  this  '  terrain  legerement  accidente,'  cross  stream  and 
ride  along  tattered  banks  with  the  nonchalance  of  the  Chinese 
Mandarin  in  the  Exhibition  of  '51  ;  in  fact,  such  is  my  con- 
fidence in  myself,  that  I  at  last  begin  to  feel  above  my 
stirrups,  I  scorn  them,  fling  them  over  my  saddle,  and  per- 
form without  their  assistance  the  rest  of  the  journey  to  within 


ANTECEDENTS    AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  51 

half  a  mile   of   Bergheim,   and    that  on  a  road  the   profile  of 
which  was  about  this  : 

(Here  was  drawn  a  line  representing  a  hill-side  almost 
perpendicular.) 

"On  my  arrival  I  am  of  course  kindly  received  by  the 
Countess  (her  husband  is  still  at  Oldenburg),  got  my  tea,  and 
go  to  bed  rather  stiff  after  an  equestrian  performance  of  about 
two  hours  and  a  half.  The  house  is  large  and  rambling,  fifteen 
windows  in  a  row,  and  yet  I  cannot  get  a  satisfactory  light,  the 
only  available  north  room  looking  on  a  lane,  the  white-washed 
houses  of  which  reflect  disagreeably  on  the  picture,  whenever 
the  sun  shines.  However  I  must  make  up  my  mind  to  it  and 
do  my  best ;   I  am  at  present  painting  the  Countess." 

"  Bergheim,  Sunday. 

"  [Dear  Mamma], — In  the  midst  of  my  anxious  expectations 
of  a  letter  from  you,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  I  had  for- 
gotten to  give  you  my  direction  ;  in  the  full  confidence  that  late 
is  far  preferable  to  7iever,  I  now  hasten  to  make  up  for  my 
omission — 

Mons.  F.  Leighton 

bei 

Ihrer  Erlauchten  der  Grafin  von 

Waldeck  und  Pyrmont 

zu  Bergheim 

bei  Fritzlar 

Fiirstenthum  Waldeck, 

''  N.B. — You  will  not  forget  to  write /^r  express  on  the  top 
of  the  envelope  ;  for  reasons,  see  my  letter  of  last  Sunday. 

"  Being  sorely  pressed  for  time,  I  now  huddle  on  to  the  rest 
of  the  paper  a  few  loose  remarks,  for  the  incoherency  of  which 
I  crave  your  indulgence. 

"  The  aspect  of  affairs  is  much  changed  since  my  last  epistle; 
then,    1    was  looking    forward   with   anxious    though   sanguine 


52  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 

expectation  to  the  labour  before  me  ;  now,  I  look  back  on  one 
portrait  (that  of  the  Countess),  achieved  to  the  great  satisfaction 
of  those  for  whom  it  is  intended,  and  contemplate  with  satis- 
faction the  progress  which  the  other  is  making  in  the  same 
direction.  I  must,  however,  add  that,  owing  to  the  necessary 
absence  of  the  Countess  for  two  days  next  week,  my  return 
home  will  be  delayed  in  proportion,  as  I  have  a  few  more 
touches  to  give  to  the  portrait  of  my  eldest  patient,  whose 
husband  is  desirous  of  taking  it  over  to  England  with  him.  (I 
shall  probably  be  with  you  Saturday  afternoon — at  all  events  I 
shall  let  you  know  beforehand.) 

"What  I  said  a  few  lines  back  will  have  suggested  to  you 
what  I  am  now  going  to  add  ;  Colonel  B.  is  now  returned 
from  Oldenburg,  and  will  probably  be  in  London  in  the 
early  part  or  middle  of  June  ;  he  is  much  pleased  with  the 
pictures,  and  in  his  kindness  has  promised  me  an  introduc- 
tion to  his  brother  in  town,  and  also  to  another  relation, 
whose  name  I  have  forgotten  ;  the  result  of  which  is  to  be  : 
access  to  the  collections  of  Lord  Ellesmere,  Duke  of  Suther- 
land, and  Sir  Robert  Peel.  I  told  Colonel  B.  that  if  on  his 
road  to  or  from  Toeplitz  in  the  autumn  he  should  pass 
through  Frankfurt,  I  should  be  very  glad  if  he  could  bring 
the  pictures  with  him,  as  they  would  both  want  a  varnish, 
and  the  children  probably  a  few  glazes  and  touches ;  he 
said  that  he  would  make  a  point  of  so  doing,  that  indeed 
after  all  the  trouble  and  pains  I  had  taken  for  him,  it  was 
the  least  he  could  do ;  for  these  and  other  reasons  (not 
unimportant)  which  I  shall  communicate  when  I  see  you, 
you  need  not  regret  my  having  made  two  journeys  to  paint 
his  wife  and  children. 

"That  I  spend  one  of  the  days  of  the  Countess'  absence 
in  seeing  Wilhelmshbhe,  a  sight  reputed  unique  of  its  kind, 
will,   I   hope,   not  seem  unreasonable. 

"I   have  noted  down,  as  theyf  occurred  to;  me,  during  the 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  53 

last  few  days  one  or  two  little  arrangements,  relative  to  my 
approaching  journey,  which  I  would  ask  you  to  make  during 
my  absence,  trusting  at  the  same  time  that  if  in  the  mean- 
while anything  else  should  occur  to  your  provident  mind, 
and  be  transmitted  to  your  many-knotted  pocket-handkerchief, 
you  will  kindly  carry  it  into  execution,  in  order  to  avoid 
delay  when  I  return  from  the  country,  as  my  time  will  be 
almost  entirely  taken  up  by  Lady  P.'s  [Pollington's]  sitting 
and  the  business  calls  I   have  to  make. 

"Will  Papa  kindly  order  a  tin  case  for  my  compositions; 
it  should  be  a  plain  cylinder,  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in 
diameter,  with  a  lid  at  one  end  ;  let  its  length  be  that  of  my 
'  Four  Seasons.' 

"  To  my  amazement  I  have  just  received  a  letter  from 
you,  dear  Mamma — did  I  give  you  my  direction  ?  You  forgot 
the  pei^  express  on  the  back  of  the  letter.  Pray  write  soon. 
Much  love  and  many  kisses  to  all. — Your  dutiful  and 
affectionate  son,  F.   Leighton." 

Soon  after  Leighton's  return  to  Frankfort  Lord  Cowley 
was  appointed  British  Ambassador  in  Paris,  and  writes  the 
following  letters.  The  invitation  he  gives  to  Leighton  to 
make  his  home  at  the  Embassy  while  pursuing  his  studies 
was  not  accepted,  Steinle's  teaching  being  only  given  up  later 
for  the  charms  of  Italy. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Leighton, — I  am  more  obliged  than  I  can 
say  by  the  kindness  you  have  shown  in  painting  portraits  of 
my  children.  I  never  saw  anything  so  like,  or  in  general 
so  pleasing,  as  the  portrait  of  Frederic,  and  I  only  regret 
that  it  is  not  in  England  to  be  seen  and  appreciated.  Once 
more  accept  my  thanks,  and  believe  me  to  be  very  truly 
yours,  Cowley." 


54  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

"  Simday  Afternoon. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Leighton, — It  has  been  quite  out  of  my 
power  to  get  to  your  house,  as  I  had  intended,  to  take 
leave  of  you,  and  to  thank  you  again  for  the  valuable 
reminiscence  which  through  your  talent  and  kindness  I 
carry  away  with  me.  It  will  give  Lady  Cowley  and  myself 
great  pleasure  if  you  will  visit  us  at  Paris.  You  cannot 
find  a  better  school  of  study  than  the  Louvre,  and  we  shall 
be  most  happy  to  lodge  and  take  care  of  you. 

"  Pray  present  my  best  compliments  to  the  members  of 
your  family. 

"  I  regret  very  much  not  being  able  to  do  it  in  person. — 
Very  faithfully,  Cowley." 

On  his  return  from  Waldeck,  Leighton  painted  the 
portrait  of  Lady  Pollington,  one  of  his  Frankfort  ac- 
quaintances. 

During  these  years,  when  Leighton  studied  under  Steinle, 
his  family  lived  also  at  Frankfort,  and  therefore  few  other 
letters  written  at  that  time  exist.  There  was  a  journey  to 
Holland,  made  during  the  early  summer  of  1852,  from 
England,  where  he  and  his  family  had  returned  for  a  visit. 
The  journey  back  to  Frankfort,  via  Holland,  is  the  subject 
of  a  long  letter  to  his  mother. 

"There  I  am  at  the  Hague.  Pretty  place,  the  Hague, 
clean,  quaint,  cheerful,  and  ain't  the  Dutch  just  fond  of 
smoking  out  of  long  clay  pipes !  And  the  pictures,  (9//  the 
pictures,  A/i  the  pictures !  That  magnificent  Rembrandt ! 
glowing,  flooded  with  light,  clear  as  amber,  and  do  you  twig 
the  ^-rey  canvas  ?  Wkai  Vandykes !  what  dignity,  calm, 
gently  breathing,  and  a  searching  thoughtfulness  in  the  gaze, 
amounting  almost  to  fascination ;  and  only  look  at  that 
Velasquez,   sparkling,    clear,    dashing ;    Paul    Potter,    too,    only 


TAHa  HHT' 


"THE  DEATH  OF   BRUNELLESCHI/*     1851 
By  permission  of  Dr.  Von  Steinle 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  55 

twenty-two  years  old  when  he  painted  that  bull,  and  just 
look  at  it ;  Jan  Steen,  Terburg,  Teniers,  Giov.  Bellini 
(splendid),  &c.  &c.  There  I  catch  myself  bearing  some- 
thing in  mind  :  '  And  yet,  after  all '  (with  an  argumentative 
hitch  of  the  cravat),  'all  that  those  fellows  had  in  advance 
of  us  was  a  palette  and  brushes,  and  that  we've  got  too ! ' 
I  walk  down  to  Scheveningen,  and  sentimentalise  on  the 
seashore ;  I  find  the  briny  deep  in  a  very  good  humour, 
and  offer  you  mental  congratulations. 

"  About  the  Rembrandt  at  Amsterdam,  I  say  nothing, 
for  it  is  a  picture  not  to  be  described.  I  can  only  say  that, 
in  it,  the  great  master  surpasses  himself;  with  the  exception, 
however,  of  this  and  the  Vanderhelst  opposite  to  it,  which 
is  full  of  spirit  and  individuality,  the  Ryko  Museum  is  toler- 
ably flat.  After  a  dull  afternoon,  I  hurry  off  to  Arnheim, 
and  to  Mayence,  and  to  Frankfurt,  where  I  arrive  on  Wed- 
nesday evening.  From  Cologne  to  Frankfurt,  Janauschek^ 
was  on  the  same  conveyance  as  myself ;  I  made  her  acquaint- 
ance, which  was  a  great  blessing  to  me  on  that  tedious, 
cockney-hackneyed  journey.  She  is  lady-like,  interesting, 
amiable,  and  severely  proper,  almost  cold  ;  she  observed  the 
strictest  incognito.  Towards  evening,  however,  when  she  had 
ascertained  that  I  was  a  resident  at  Frankfurt,  and  therefore 
probably  knew  her  perfectly  well,  and  that  I  was  an  artist, 
which  excited  her  sympathy,  and  that  my  name  was  Leighton, 
a  name  with  which  she  was  acquainted  (through  Schroedter 
and  others)  as  that  of  one  of  the  most  talented  young  artists 
of  Frankfurt  (hem !),  she  relaxed  considerably.  She  has  a 
melancholy  and  most  interesting  look,  and  talks  very  despon- 
dently of  the  state  of  dramatic  art  nowadays.  I  made  myself 
useful  to  her  at  the  station,  and  she  was  warmly  grateful. 
About  my  picture^  (which  I  have  entrusted  to  Steinle's  care) 

'  A  distinguished  actress. 

2  Probably  '•  The  Death  of  Brunelleschi." 


56  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

I  have  nothing  to  communicate,  except  that  I  am  confirmed 
in  thinking  that  it  has  been  universally  well  received  ;  even 
Becker  seems  to  like  it  in  many  respects — of  course  you 
know  that  the  leading  fault  is  that  it  was  painted  under  his 
rival  ;  Oppenheim  said  (when  I  talked  of  it  as  a  daub)  that 
he  wished  he  could  daub  so,  and  that  he  promised  me  a 
areat  future ;  Prince  Gortschakoff  (who,  by  the  by,  pre- 
ferred  the  portraits,  and  judges  with  all  the  aplomb  of  a 
Count  Briez)  introduced  himself  to  me  in  the  gallery,  and 
told  me  in  the  course  of  conversation  that  he  regretted  very 
much  having  no  work  of  mine,  adding  that  he  only  bought 
masters  of  the  first  order ;  that  was  a  compliment,  at  all 
events  ;  Dr.  Schlemmer  has  been  very  kind  to  me,  and  has 
given  me  a  letter  for  Venice  ;  I  dined  with  him  on  Sunday, 
and  made  the  acquaintance  of  Felix  Mendelssohn's  widow, 
a  charming  woman." 

Between  the  years  1849  and  1852  Leighton  painted,  be- 
sides the  portraits  mentioned,  three  finished  pictures,  "  Cimabue 
finding  Giotto  in  the  Fields  of  Florence,"  "The  Duel  between 
Romeo  and  Tybalt,"  and  "The  Death  of  Brunelleschi "  ;  and 
also  made  the  notable  drawing,  now  in  the  Victoria  and  Albert 
Museum,  of  a  scene  during  the  plague  in  Florence.  His 
master,  Steinle,  easily  discerned  that  Leighton  was  truly 
enamoured  of  Italy  ;  the  subjects  he  chose  were  Italian,  and 
his  memory  was  full  of  the  charm  and  fascination  of  the  country 
which  he  ever  referred  to,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  as  his  second 
home.  It  was  decided  that  he  should  go  to  Rome,  his  father 
having  determined  to  leave  Frankfort  and  to  reside  at  Bath, 
where  his  mother,  Lady  Leighton,  was  then  living.  Steinle 
gave  Leighton  an  introduction  to  his  friend  and  fellow  "  Naza- 
rene,"  Cornelius,  and  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  his  mother 
wrote  a  farewell  letter  of  "  injunctions,"  flavoured  happily  by 
hints  of  humour.  There  is  something  very  quaint  to  those 
who   knew   Leighton   after  he   was   thirty   in  the   admonitions 


00 


U 

Z 

o 


ID 

o 

Ph 


CO 


w 

O 
U 


Ui 
G 
O 
> 

W 


H 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  57 

with  regard  to  manners  and  politeness,  which  occur  in  several 
of  his  mother's  letters. 

"  My  dearest  Child, — As  we  are  about  to  part,  you  may 
perhaps  think  you  will  be  rid  of  my  lectures,  but  no,  I  leave 
you  some  injunctions  in  writing,  so  that  you  will  not  be  able 
to  urge  the  plea  of  forgetfulness  if  you  continue  your  negligent 
habits,  though  you  certainly  vc^Ay  forget  to  read  what  I  write — 
but  I  trust  to  your  love  and  respect  for  nie,  though  the  latter 
needs  cultivation  nearly  as  much  as  habits  of  refinement  in 
you.  I  have  no  new  advice  to  give  you,  I  can  but  repeat  what 
I  have  urged  on  you  many  times  from  your  childhood  upwards  ; 
I  do  implore  you,  let  your  conscience  be  your  guide  amidst 
all  temptations,  they  will  be  such  as  they  have  never  yet  been 
to  you,  as  you  will  henceforward  have  no  other  restraint  on 
your  actions  than  what  is  self-imposed.  I  beseech  you,  do 
not  suffer  your  disbelief  in  the  dogmas  of  the  Protestant  Church 
to  weaken  the  belief  I  hope  you  entertain  of  the  existence  of 
a  Supreme  Being.  Strive  to  obey  the  law  He  has  implanted 
in  us,  which  approves  good  and  condemns  evil,  though  the 
struggle  for  the  mastery  between  these  principles  is  sometimes 
fearful,  as  every  one  knows,  especially  in  youth.  My  precious 
child,  if  one  sinful  mortal's  prayer  for  another  could  avail,  how 
carefully  would  you  be  preserved  from  moral  evil  (the  greatest 
of  all  evil)  ;  but  I  need  not  tell  you  there  is  no  royal  road  to 
Heaven  any  more  than  to  excellence  in  inferior  objects,  every 
advantage  must  be  obtained  by  energy  and  perseverance. 
May  God  help  you  to  keep  free  of  the  greatest  of  all  miseries, 
an  upbraiding  conscience  ;  for  though  this  can  be  deadened  for 
a  time  in  the  hurry  of  life  while  youth  lasts,  there  comes 
an  hour  when  life  loses  its  attractions,  and  then  issues  the 
troubled  consequence  of  merry  deeds.  I  am  aware  you 
have  heard  all  this  a  hundred  times,  and  better  expressed, 
but     it     will     bear     repetition  ;     and     now     that    it     is     your 


58  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

mother  who  is  counselUng  you,   you  will  not,    I   trust,  turn  a 
deaf  ear. 

"  I  can  but  repeat  what  I  have  continually  told  you — to 
refine  your  feelings  you  must  neither  utter  nor  encourage  a 
coarse  thought.  It  would  be  an  inexpressible  pleasure  to 
me  to  leave  you  confirmed  in  good  habits  ;  but  wishes  are  idle. 
I  trust  to  your  desire  to  improve  in  all  ways  and  to  please 
me.  The  next  sheet  I  wrote  some  time  ago,  intending  to 
rewrite  it,  but  the  trouble  is  too  great  for  my  shaking  hands, 
and  I  add  what  I  have  written  to-day  on  separate  pieces  of 
paper.  I  have  written  enough  ;  I  have  only  now  to  add  an 
entreaty  that  you  will  not  throw  these  admonitions  away,  but 
sometimes  read  them,  remembering  they  come  warm  from 
your  mother's  heart. 

"  My  child,  your  manners  are  very  faulty,  and  I  am  con- 
sequently much  disappointed.  You  take  so  much  alter  me, 
and  my  nearest  relations  had  such  refined  manners,  that  I  made 
sure  you  must  resemble  my  father  and  brothers.  There  is, 
however,  nothing  on  earth  to  prevent  your  becoming  the 
gentleman  I  wish  to  see  you,  and  remember  to  write  inefface- 
ably   on    the  tablets   of  your   memory,   '  Too  much  familiarity 

breeds  contempt.'     You  remember  how  seriously  young 's 

forwardness  has  been  commented  on.  Well,  it  is  true,  you 
have  never,  as  far  as  I  know,  spoken  as  he  has  done ;  but 
as  I  have  seldom  seen  you  in  company,  nor  your  father  either, 
without  observing  some  want  of  politeness,  is  it  not  probable 
that  other  people  have  their  eyes  open  also  ? " 

These  admonitions  received,  Leighton  started  on  his 
journey  to  Rome.  At  Innsbruck,  on  August  i8,  1852,  he 
began  to  write  a  Diary,  in  order  that  his  mother  should 
hear  the  details  of  his  travels,  and  to  serve  "  as  a  clue  "  by 
which  he  might  one  day  recall  the  "impressions  and  emotions 
of  the  years  of  his  artistic  noviciate." 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  59 

Leighton's  utterances  on  paper  in  these  early  days  display 
the  same  intense  exuberance  of  vitality  which,  during  the 
whole  of  his  notable  career,  served  to  spur  on  his  mental  and 
emotional  powers  to  perform  with  great  completeness  all  the 
various  kinds  of  work  which  he  undertook  ;  a  vitality  which 
conquered  triumphantly  the  effects  of  indifferent  health  and 
troubled  eyesight.  In  the  diaries  and  letters  is  also  to  be 
traced  the  existence  of  that  Greek-like  combination  of  qualities 
so  characteristic  of  Leighton — namely,  explicit  precision  in 
his  thought  and  expression,  and  a  subtle  power  of  analysis, 
united  with  great  emotional  sensitiveness  and  enthusiastic 
warmth  of  temperament.  His  feeling  for  beauty  was  an  intoxi- 
cating joy  to  him.  Heartfelt  and  genuine  joy  engendered  by 
beauty  in  nature  and  art  is  not  a  very  common  feeling  among 
the  moderns,  though  so  much  fuss  is  made  by  many  in  our 
day  in  their  endeavours  to  become  ''artistic''  ;  but,  as  a  ruling 
guide,  beauty  has  gone  out  of  fashion.  The  accounts  that 
Leighton  gives  of  his  ecstasies  in  the  presence  of  beautiful 
scenes,  enforce  the  belief  entertained  by  those  who  knew  him 
best,  that  it  was  the  power  which  beauty  exercised  over  him 
that  developed  his  exceptional  strength  in  all  artistic  directions. 
What  force  in  the  over-riding  of  difficulties  does  not  passion 
give  to  the  lover !  No  less  a  force  was  engendered  in  Leighton 
by  the  inspiration  of  the  beauty  of  nature. 

In  the  letter  to  his  mother,  which  accompanies  the  Diary, 
referring  to  the  joy  he  has  been  experiencing,  Leighton  adds  : 
"  I  feel  almost  a  kind  of  shame  that  so  much  should  have 
been  poured  down  on  me.  I  will  put  my  talent  to  usury,  and 
be  no  slothful  steward  of  what  has  been  entrusted  to  me. 
Every  man  who  has  received  a  gift  ought  to  feel  and  act  as 
if  he  was  a  field  in  which  a  seed  was  planted,  that  others 
might  gather  the  harvest."  The  purity  of  purpose  which 
guided  Leighton's  life  to  the  end,  generated  first  by  the  pre- 
cepts  of  his   mother   in   the   fertile   soil    of  his    own    beautiful 


6o  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

nature,  subsequently  developed  by  the  teaching  of  the  high- 
minded  Steinle,  and  finally  established  later  by  other  elevating 
influences,  chastened  the  emotional  side  of  Leighton's  passion 
for  beauty,  and  disentangled  it  even  in  the  earliest  days  from 
lower  and  purely  sensuous  contamination.  The  puritanical 
attitude  of  mind  towards  beauty  appeared  to  Leighton  abso- 
lutely impure  and  desecrating,  in  that  it  associated  influences 
and  feelings  which  are  of  the  lowest  with  the  appreciation 
of  God's  most  beautiful  creations,  and  some  of  man's  highest 
aspirations  with  sensations  entirely  degraded  and  unworthy. 

Fun  and  humour  abound  in  the  family  letters,  and  in  the 
Diary.  Leighton  was  never  guilty  of  being  sentimental,  and 
when  referring  to  the  word  ideal  in  one  of  his  letters,  he  writes 
he  "hates  such  stuff."  After  he  died,  it  was  written  of  him: 
"He  was  no  idealist;  needless  to  say,  he  was  no  materialist, 
no  one  less  so  ;  nor  does  the  term  realist  seem  to  recall  his 
nature.  He  was — if  such  a  word  can  be  used — an  actualist, 
the  actual  was  to  him  of  primary  importance.  But  the  actual 
meant  a  great  deal  more  to  Leighton  than  it  does  to  most  of 
us.  Life  and  its  vivid  interests  was  spread  over  a  much  wider 
area  ;  so  many  more  of  its  various  ingredients  were  such  very 
actual  entities  to  him,"^ 

And  when  Leighton  started,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  to 
begin  his  independent  life,  we  feel  that  it  is  with  the  actual 
that  he  grappled — the  actual  in  his  sensations,  his  feelings, 
his  impressions,  his  conditions.  An  unmistakable  note  of 
reality  rings  through  his  description  of  all  these.  He  has  no 
tendency,  even  unconsciously,  when  under  the  glamour  of  the 
most  entrancing  impressions,  to  colour  the  picture  other  than 
he  actually  saw  it.  In  the  strength  of  his  own  real  nature  he 
goes  forth  on  the  journey  of  life. 

'  See  Appendix,  In  Memoriam. 


ANTECEDENTS   AND    SCHOOL    DAYS  6i 


DIARY 

Innsbruck,  August  i8,  1852. 
"When   Hop  o'  my  Thumb,  a  nursery  hero  of  European  i  contem- 
note,  first  sallied  out  into  the  world  with  an  eve  to  makino-  a  Pl^'^  'l"^ 

-'  &    ■-*    life  and 

fortune,    his   first  step   was   (justly  foreseeing  what   the  world  adventures 
would  expect  of  the  hero  of  a  future  romance)  to  lose  himself  Thumb. 
in  a  large  and  horrid  forest,  in  which  it  was  pitch  dark  all  day 
long,    and   nothing   was   heard   but  .   .   .   &c.    &c.      (Here    see 
biog.  of  H.O'M.   Thumb,   Esq.,  vol.   i.) 

"  Now,  in  those  days  mile-posts  were  not  yet  come  in,  and 
maps  were  excessively  expensive  ;  how,  then,  was  H.O'M. T., 
after  he  should  have  realised  a  large  independence,  to  find 
his  way  back  through  this  intricate  waste  ?  Here  admire 
the  man  of  parts  and  sagacity  !  '  He  determined',  says  the 
historian,    '  to  drop  pebbles  in  a  row  all  along  the  path  ' ! 

"Admirable  Thumb!      I,  too,  purpose,  as  I  stroll  along,  to  and  adopt 
drop  every  now  and  then  mental  pebbles,   which  shall  serve  niTas°ures! 
as  a  connecting  link   between   the   past  and    the    future,   and 
as  a   clue   by   which   I    may  one  day  recall  the  emotions  and 
impressions  of  the  years  of  my  artistic  noviciate. 

"  Be  with  me,  oh  Thumb  !  but  make 

"  N'.B. — Quality  of  pebbles  not  warranted. 


a  reserva* 
tion. 


PEBBLES 

"  Kind,  affectionate,  earnest  Steinle  !  Pebble  i. 

"  In  a  record  of  whatever  concerns  me  as  an  artist,  hts  name  a  'nbute 

or  attec- 

should   be   at  the   beginning,    in   the   middle,   and  at   the   end.  tion  and 
JVow,  at  the  beginning,  for  our  parting  is  still  painfully  present  my'^dear 
to   my   mind ;    our   parting,    and   the   last   few    days   we   spent  Stemie. 
together :    the    sad    face    and    moistened   eye    with    which    he 
watched  the  diligence  in  which  I  rolled  off  from  Bregenz  ;  his 


62  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

fitful  way,  when  we  travelled  together — one  moment  jovial 
and  facetious,  another  layini^^  his  hand  affectionately  on  my 
shoulder  and  remaining  silent ;  his  saying  to  me  before  I 
started,  '  I  shall  be  all  alone  to-morrow,  here,  and  yet  I  shall 
be  with  you  all  the  day.'  .   .  . 

"  In   the   middle^  all    through,  and  to   the   end — because   if 

ever,  hereafter,  my  works  wear  the  mark  of  a  pure  taste,  if  ever 

I  succeed  in  raising  some  portion  of  the  public  to  the  level  of 

high  art,  rather  than  obsequiously  acquiesce  in  the  judgments 

of  the  tasteless  and  the  ignorant,  and  if  I  keep  alive,  to  the 

end,   the  active   conviction    that    an    artist,   who   deserves  the 

name,  never  ceases  to  learn,   the  key  of  such  success  will   be 

in  one  name  :  Steinle  ;  in  having  constantly  borne  in  mind  his 

precept,  and  his  example. 

I  find  on  "  Although  a  week  has  already  elapsed  since  I  left  Frankfurt, 

reflection     ^^  |^^^  ^^^  home,  it  is  onlv  now  that  I  have  parted  from  Steinle 

though  I     ^^^  J  j-eallv  feel  that  I  have  taken  the  great  step,  that  I  have 

started  a  ■'  r      i  i  i 

week  ago,    opened  the  introductory  chapter  of  the  second  volume  of  my 
just"gone^   life,  a  volume  on  the  title-page  of  which  is  written   "Artist." 
It   seems  to   me   that  my  wanderings  began  at  Bregenz,  and 
that  in   retracing,   as   I   presently  shall,   my  route   until   I   got 
there,    I   am   tearing  open  again   leaves   that  were  closed — to 
remain  so.      I   seize  the  opportunity  offered  by  this  first  day 
of  repose  to  take  breath,  and,  as  I  stand  within  the  threshold, 
I  look        to    look    before    me   and   reconnoitre.       Italy   rises   before   my 
forward,      j^j^d.      Sunny    Italy!  the   land   that    I    have   so   long   yearned 
after  with  ardent  longing,  and  that  has  dwelt  in  my  memory 
since  last   I   saw  it  as  a  never-fading,  gentle-beckoning  image 
of  loveliness ;    I    am    about   again    to    tread    the    soil   of  that 
beloved   country,   the  day-dream   of  long  years   is   to   become 
a  reality.      I   am  enraptured ! 
but  don't  "And  yet — how  is  it  that  my  pleasure  is  not  unalloyed?  that 

feel  quite     j  involuntarily  shrink  from  grasping  the  height  of  my  wishes? 
It  is  because  I  feel  a  kind  of  sacred  awe  at  breaking  through 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  63 

the  charm  that  has  been  so  long  gathering  around  the  image 
that  I  have  carried  in  my  inward  heart,  as  one  who  loves,  at 
touching  with  cold  reality  that  which  has  so  long  been  the  far 
removed  object  of  dreamy,  sweetly  melancholy  longings ! 

"  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  an  imaginative  man  must  feel 
something  similar  when  on  the  point  of  changing  courtship  for 
marriao^e. 

"Other  thoughts,  too,  assail  me,  and  sometimes  make  me 
uneasy.  *  Do  I  fully  feel  ..."  No,  '  Shall  I  continue  fully 
to  feel  the  immense  importance  to  me  of  the  three  or  four  years 
now  before  me  ?  feel  that  they  will  be  the  corner-stone  of  my 
career,  for  good  or  for  evil  ?  Shall  I  have  the  energy  to  carry 
out  all  my  resolutions  ?  Shall  I  fulfil  what  I  have  promised  ? ' 
.   .   .   Then  I  think  of  Steinle,  and  I  feel  reassured.  Get  better. 

"  Let  me  come  to  the  point,  to  the  description  of  my  journey  ;  Pebble  11. 
but  before  I  begin,  let  me  remember  that,  whilst  of  all  my 
friends  and  companions  only  three  were  present  at  my  de- 
parture,— one  of  them  was  there  in  order  to  give  me  a  com- 
mission, and  another  to  acknowledge  a  service, — old  General 
Bentinck  did  not  think  it  too  great  an  exertion  to  see 
off,  at  eight  in  the  morning,  one,  three  times  younger  than 
himself. 

"  My  first  day's  journey  took  me  to  Middelburg,  along  the  Middei- 
Bergstrasse,  which  we  all  know,  and  of  which  I  therefore  say  Au|ust 
nothing,  and  yet  I  enjoyed  it  more  than  I  ever  had  done  before  ; 
it  was  one  of  those  cool,  clear,  opalescent  mornings,  in  which 
all  nature  looks  as  if  it  was  teeming  with  health  and  freshness  ; 
there  was  something  exhilarating,  too,  in  the  atmosphere,  which 
very  much  increased  my  enjoyment ;  I  looked  upon  familiar 
scenes,  but  I  saw  them  in  a  new  light ;  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I 
was  reading  nature  in  a  new  book. 

"  On  arriving  at  Heidelberg,  I  hurried  at  once,  by  appoint- 
ment  with   Steinle,   to   a    place  in    the    neighbourhood    called 


64  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Stift  *  Stift   Neuburg,'  the    property  and    residence   of   Frau    Rath 

eu  urg.     Schlosser,   the  widow    of   his    old   and    intimate    friend,    Rath 
Schlosser. 

"  Picture  to  yourself,  just  where  the  Neckar  makes  a  graceful 
curve,  about  a  mile  above  Heidelberg,  half-way  up  a  rich  and 
sunny  slope,  chequered  with  clustering  vineyards  and  luxuriant 
meadows,  an  old,  picturesque  convent,  with  its  adjoining  chapel 
and  appurtenant  dairies  and  farmhouses,  the  whole  group  raised 
up  on  a  lofty,  timeworn,  weather-beaten  terrace — and  you  will 
form  some  idea  of  the  Stift.  There  I  spent  the  afternoon 
I  enjoy  in  the  most  charming  possible  manner,  whether  in  wandering 
niyseif.  ^^\\_\^  Steinle  along  the  solitary,  shady  walks  of  the  convent 
garden,  or  in  snuffing  about  in  the  vaulted,  mildew  old  library 
(which,  by  the  by,  contains  six  or  seven  thousand  valuable  and 
curious  books),  or  the  silent  chapel,  with  its  stained-glass  win- 
dows, or  in  looking  through  Frau  Rath's  magnificent  collection 
of  drawings  by  German  artists,  or,  finally,  in  enjoying  the  con- 
versation of  the  Frau  Rath  herself,  who  is  a  most  clever  and 
amiable  old  lady.  The  next  morning  (for  I  spent  the  night 
there)  after  all  breakfasting  together,  we  went  down  by  a 
postern  gate  to  the  river-side,  and  awaited  the  arrival  of  the 
Heilbronn  steamer  ;  general  leave-taking,  shaking  of  hands, 
gratitude  and  thanks  on  the  one  side,  on  the  other  reiterated 
invitations  for  the  future,  which  I  sincerely  hope  I  may  one 
Heilbronn,  day  be  able  to  meet.  The  valley  of  the  Neckar  as  far  as  Heil- 
^^ugust  bronn,  where  we  arrived  on  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  is 
dull  enough  in  all  conscience  ;  indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
company  and  always  interesting  conversation  of  Steinle,  I  really 
do  not  know  what  I  should  have  done  with  myself;  such  a 
contrast  with  the  preceding  day  ! 

"  Between  Heilbronn  and  the  Lake  of  Constance,  however, 
a  new  scene  opens  out ;  I  see  Germany  under  a  totally  new- 
aspect,  I  understand  at  last  what  German  poets  mean  when 
they   rave   about   the   lovely   *  Schwabenland  '   and   call   it   the 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  65 

'  Perle  deutscher  Gauen ' ;  I  can  now  imagine  the  existence  of 
landed patriotisvi  (if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression)  among 
the  Germans  coming  from  that  part  of  the  country.  It  is, 
indeed,  an  enchanting  panorama  ;  a  never-ceasing  variety  of 
rich,  profusely  fertile  valleys,  studded  with  cheerful,  bright- 
looking,  home-inviting  villages,  and  enclosed  by  chains  of  gently 
undulating  hills.  The  corn  was  ripe,  and  waved  in  golden 
stripes  across  the  variegated  plains;  the  peasants,  a  picturesque, 
good-humoured  set,  were  scattered  over  the  fields,  some  mowing 
down  the  heavy  laden  wheat,  others  binding  it  into  graceful 
sheaves  ;  in  one  respect  the  scene  reminded  me  of  my  own  dear 
country  :  it  looked  as  if  a  blessing  were  on  it. 

"On  our  road  we  passed  through  Ulm,^  and  visited  the  uim:its 
cathedral,  some  parts  of  which  (especially  the  portico)  are  <^*^^^^^*i- 
very  beautiful  and  elegant ;  the  interior  contains  a  magnificent 
and  highly  elaborate  tabernacle,  and  some  wood-carving  by 
Syrlin  of  exquisite  workmanship  ;  the  whole,  however,  left  a 
melancholy  impression  on  both  of  us,  especially  on  Steinle,  who 
is  an  ardent  Catholic.  It  stands  neglected  and  half-finished, 
in  the  midst  of  a  miserable,  rambling  town-village,  a  thing  of 
olden  times,  for  whose  presence  one  can  hardly  account.  It 
was  built,  or  rather,  begun,  as  a  monument  of  Catholicism  ; 
the  country  round  it  has  become  Protestant ;  itself  has  been 
protestantized  ;  it  has  been  disfigured  by  an  incongruous  heap 
of  business-like  pews  ;  it  is  no  longer  accessible  at  every  hour 
of  the  day,  from  Sunday  to  Sunday  its  walls  re-echo  no  sound 
but  the  occasional  tread  of  the  pew-opener,  as  he  dusts  the 
seats  of  those  who  pay  him  for  it ;  the  soul  has  left  the  grey 
old  pile  ;  it  is  a  stately  corpse.  What  artist,  however  un- 
catholic  in  his  belief,  can  contemplate  those  old  Gothic  churches, 
with  their  glorious  tabernacles  and  other  ornaments  equally 
beautiful  and  equally   disused,   without  painfully  feeling  what 

^  See  sketch,  "A  Monk  Dividing  Enemies,"  Leighton  House  Collection,  "  Ulm, 
1852." 

VOL.  I.  E 


66  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

an  almost  deadly  blow  the  Reformation  was  to  High  Art,  what 
a  powerful  incentive  it  removed,  irrecoverably  ?  Who,  in  his 
heart  of  hearts,  can  but  dwell  with  melancholy  regret  on  the 
times  when  art  was  coupled  with  belief,  and  so  many  divine 
works  were  virtually  expressions  of  faith  ?  What  a  purifying 
and  ennobling  influence  was  thus  exercised  over  the  taste  of 
the  artist !  an  influence  which  nothing  can  replace.  This 
influence  was  incalculably  great ;  no  dwelling  was  so  humble 
but  it  owned  a  crucifix ;  no  artist  so  poor  in  capacity  but 
endeavoured  to  produce  something  not  unworthy  of  his  sub- 
ject ;  the  general  ^one  of  taste  thus  produced  reacted  on 
everything ;  witness  the  most  insignificant  doorlatch  or  orna- 
ment that  remains  to  us  from  the  Middle  Ages.  Is  it  not 
remarkable  that  the  first  artists  of  the  modern  day,  in  the 
higher  walk  of  art,  I  mean,  are  Catholics  ?  Cornelius  and 
Steinle  were  born  in  the  Church  of  Rome  ;  Veit  and  Over- 
beck  went  over  to  it  ;  Pugin,  too,  our  great  architect,  was 
converted  by  his  art  to  the  Catholic  faith. 
August  15,  "  From  Friedrichshafen  a  delightful  sail  took  us  across  the 

emerald    coloured    Lake   of   Constance    to    Bregenz,   where    I 
parted  from  Steinle. 


Sunday. 


reflection, 


Pebble  "  I  am  sitting  at  my  window  in  the  inn  (hotel,  I'll  trouble 

.  '    ,       you!)  at  Meran.     For  the  first  time  since  I   left  Innsbruck   I 

August  21,    '  / 

Saturday,  have  leisure  again  to  take  up  my  pen.  As  I  look  back  on 
my  journey  through  the  Tyrol,  so  far  as  it  goes,  I  am  forcibly 

I  make  a  struck  with  the  reflection  that  my  enjoyment  of  it  has  been 
much  keener  this  time  than  ever  it  was  before  ;  this  in- 
creased enjoyment  has  not,  I  feel,  arisen  from  any  external 
or  adventitious  circumstances ;  last  time  that  I  was  in  this 
lovely  country,  I  contemplated  it  with  ease  and  comfort  from 
the  rumble  of  our  own  carriage  ;  this  time  I  have  jolted  through 
it  under  all  the  disadvantages  attendant  on  an  Eihvagen  and 
indifferent  weather  ;   it  has  arisen  in  the  greater  development 


ANTECEDENTS   AND    SCHOOL    DAYS  67 

of  my  artistic  sensibilities,  in  my  sharpened  perception  of  the 
charms  of  nature,  which  discloses  to  me  now  a  thousand 
beauties  that  found  no  echo  in  me  when  I  saw  them  last.  I 
congratulate  myself  on  this  reflection.  If  any  man  should  be 
constantly  penetrated  with  gratitude  for  a  gift  bestowed  on  and  feel 
him,  it  is  the  artist  who  has  realised  as  his  share  a  genuine  S'"'^^^'"'- 
love  for  nature ;  for  his  enjoyment,  if  he  puts  his  gift  to 
usury,  increases  with  the  days  of  his  life. 

"Another  circumstance,  which  has  greatly  augmented  my 
relish  of  the  Tyrol,  is  that,  at  every  step,  it  assumes  more  and 
more  the  character  of  my  darling  Italy  ;  I  have  watched  with 
fond  anxiety  every  little  token  that  whispered  of  the  south ; 
the  gently  purpling  tints  that  steal  gradually  over  the  distant 
hills,  as  one  advances  towards  the  land  of  the  amaranthine 
Apennines,  the  slow  but  steadily  progressive  change  of  vegeta- 
tion, the  gaunt  and  ragged  fir  giving  way  by  degrees  to  the 
encroachment  of  a  richer  and  more  gently  rustling  shade,  the 
anxiously  watched  gradations,  the  climax  at  last ;  the  walnut,  i  gei 
first,  *  few  and  far  between,'  but  warmly  welcome,  with  its  [he  anUci- 
clustering  leaves  of  juicy  green  ;  the  chestnut,  with  its  long,  p^^^^[°"  °^ 
graceful,  dark-hued  foliage  ;  the  vine,  again,  no  longer,  as  in 
the  north,  tied  stiffly  to  a  row  of  sticks  (like  a  regiment  of 
gooseberry  bushes),  but  luxurious,  wildly  spreading,  gracefully 
trained  along  rows  of  outward-slanting,  basket-like  trellis-work, 
and  wreathed  here  and  there  by  a  pious  hand  up  a  roadside 
imaee  of  the  Crucifixion  in  illustration  of  the  words  of  Christ : 
'/  am  the  true  vine.'  Now,  too,  the  dark  striped,  portly 
pumpkins,  with  their  gorgeous  flame-like  flowers,  begin  to 
appear,  sometimes  drowsily  lolling  under  the  tremulous  shade 
of  the  mantling  vines,  sometimes  basking  with  half-closed  eyes 
down  the  unscorched  lizard-haunted  walls,  sometimes  trained 
across  from  house  to  house,  hanging  like  Chinese  lamps  over 
the  heads  of  the  passers  by.  Presently,  a  fig-tree — two — 
three  —  more  —  plenty!     A   cypress  —  and,  by  Jove!    look  at 


a  para 


pa 


■able. 


68  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

that  terrace  of  stately,  heavy-laden  citron  and  orange  trees ! 
Nothing  is  wanting  now  but  the  olive.  How  could  I  pass  by 
such  dear  old  friends  without  loiterina  a  little  amono^  them  ? 
and  spout  A  faithful  lovcr,  I  return,  after  six  years  of  longing  absence, 
to  the  home  of  her  of  my  inward  heart ;  I  hurry  along,  I 
have  already  crossed  the  garden  gate,  I  breathe  the  air  she 
breathes,  I  see  from  afar  the  bower  where  she  dwells  ;  but 
as  I  hasten  along  the  well-known  path,  a  thousand  reminis- 
cences of  her  arise  from  every  object  around  me,  and  cling 
to  me,  and  throw  a  gentle  net  across  my  faltering  step,  and 
whisper  softly  to  my  dream-wrapt  brain — I  am  spellbound — 
I  linger,  even  in  my  impatience. 

"  I  must  not  forget  the  excessively  picturesque  appearance 
of  all  the  towns  and  villages  south  of  Innsbruck  ;  long,  narrow, 
tortuous  streets,  lined  on  each  side  with  never-ceasing  vistas 
of  arcades,  and  enclosed  by  houses  of  most  fancifully  artistic 
irregularity  ;  as  one  passes  along  the  vaulted  galleries  the  eye 
is  constantly  caught  by  some  picturesque  object ;  either  the 
peasants,  as  they  stroll  along  in  their  divers  costumes,  or  the 
many-coloured,  richly  piled  fruit  stalls  that  every  now  and  then 
fill  the  arches,  or,  through  an  open  door,  the  endless  depth 
of  vaulted  passages  and  fantastic  staircases  and  irregular  in- 
ward courts  and  yards,  offering  to  the  artist's  eye  a  play  of 
lights  and  shades  and  mysterious,  dreamy  half-tints  that  might 
shame  even  a  Rembrandt  or  an  Ostade.  As  the  exterior  of  all 
the  houses  is  (with  the  exception,  of  course,  of  the  ornaments) 
scrupulously  white,  the  streets,  narrow  as  they  are,  reflecting, 
by  the  luminous  nature  of  their  local  tint,  the  light  of  day 
into  the  remotest  corner,  have  a  most  cheerful  aspect. 

"Of  the  Tyrolese  themselves,  three  qualities  seem  to  me  to 
characterise  them,  qualities  which  go  well  hand  in  hand  with, 
and,  I  think  it  is  not  fanciful  to  say,  are  in  great  measure  a 
key  to,  their  well-known  frankness  and  open-hearted  honesty. 
I   mean  Piety,  which  shines  out  amongst  them  in  many  little 


\< 


■^tr-rTT   ^rsTTT  T'n    T-7-i,T.T  A  <;t«t    i.    TTr-.    VrTTTT:? 


STUDY  OF  A  BRANCH  OF  FIG  TREE.     1856 
Leighton  House  Collection 


STUDY  OF  BRAMBLE,    1856 
Leighton  House  Collection 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  69 

things,  a  love  for  the  art,  which  with  them  is,  in  fact,  an 
outward  manifestation  of  piety,  and  which  is  sufficiently  dis- 
played by  the  numberless  scriptural  subjects,  painted  or  in 
relief,  which  adorn  the  cottages  of  the  poorest  peasants,  and, 
last  not  least,  a  love  for  flowers  (in  other  words,  for  nature), 
which  is  written  in  the  lovely  clusters  of  flowers  which  stand 
in  many-hued  array  on  the  window-sills  of  every  dwelling. 
The  works  of  all  the  really  great  artists  display  that  love 
for  flowers.  Raphael  did  not  consider  it  '  niggling,'  as 
some  of  our  broad-handling  moderns  would  call  it,  to  group 
humble  daisies  round  the  feet  of  his  divine  representation  of 
the  Mother  of  Christ.  I  notice  that  two  plants,  especially, 
produce  a  beautiful  effect,  both  of  form  and  colour,  against 
the  cool  grey  walls  :  the  spreading,  dropping,  graceful  carna- 
tion, with  its  bluish  leaves  and  crimson  flowers,  and  the  slender, 
antlered,  thousand-blossomed  oleander. 

"  One  of  the  sights  in  Innsbruck  has  left  on  me  a  deep  and.   Pebble  iv. 
I   hope,  a  lasting  impression:  the  bronze  statues  in  the  Fran-  statues  in 

,  ,  ,  1  r  •  c     r^  Innsbruck. 

ciscan  church ;  they  are  the  finest  specimens  ot  Uerman 
mediaeval  sculpture  that  I  ever  saw,  and  grew  on  me  as  I 
gazed  at  them  in  a  manner  which  I  hardly  ever  felt  before ; 
their  great  merit  consists  in  combining  in  the  most  astounding 
manner  the  most  consummate  knowledge  of  the  art  with  all 
the  simplicity  of  nature  and  the  most  striking  individuality 
(that  first  of  artistic  qualities),  and  exhibiting  at  the  same 
"time  the  most  elaborate  finish  in  the  details,  with  greatest 
possible  breadth  and  grandeur  of  general  masses  ;  this  quality 
is  particularly  conspicuous  amongst  the  women,  three,  especially, 
standing  side  by  side,  show,  by  three  perfect  examples,  the 
whole  secret  of  ornamental  economy  ;  the  one,  whose  dress 
is  ornamented  with  all  the  richness  of  which  a  luxurious  ima- 
gination and  an  unparalleled  power  of  execution  were  capable, 
recovers  its  simplicity  of  oudine  and  mass  by  having  a  tightly 


yo  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

fitting  body  and  sleeve  and  a  skirt  of  moderate  amplitude  ; 
the  second,  whose  ornaments,  though  richly,  are  more  broadly 
disposed,  retains  its  balance  by  a  slightly  increased  amplitude 
of  drapery  ;  while  the  third,  whose  dress  is  altogether  without 
embroidery,    acquires    a    corresponding    effect    by    large,    loose 

I  take  on,  sleeves  and  richly  folded  skirt,  and  two  large  plaits  hanging 
down  her  back.  What  an  opportunity  this  would  be,  backed 
by  these  giants  of  breathing  bronze,  to  make  an  indignant 
descent  on  some  paltry  and  muddle-headed  moderns,  who 
don't  know  how  to  discriminate  between  that  kind  of  finish 
which  proceeds  from  the  love  of  a  smooth  surface,  and  makes 
the  artist  equally  careful  of  his  pumps  and  of  his  pictures,  and 
that  other  kind  of  minuteness  which  is  the  beautiful  fruit  of 
a  refined  love  for  nature,  and  proceeds  from  a  feeling  of  piety 
towards  the  mother  of  art,  and  who  complacently  call  'nigg- 
ling,' a  quality  above  the  appreciation  of  their  breadth-mad 
brains  ;  who,  in  their  art-made-easy  system  of  '  idealising ' 
(forsooth),  look  for  artistic  '  beauty  '  in  a  facial  angle  of  so 
and  so  much.  What  with  the  G7'eeks  was  an  abstract  of 
MAN,  and  very  appropriately  applicable  in  the  cases  of  demi- 
gods (that  the  ancients  could,  and  did,  '  en  tems  et  lieu,' 
individualise,  may  be  sufficiently  seen  in  their  admirable 
portraits),  becomes  with  t/iem  an  absurdly  misapplied  average 
of  mankind,  not  a  man,  or  men.  The  leading  feature  in 
Nature  is  a  manifold  individuality,  an  endless  variety  ; 
she  is  like  a  diamond,  that  glances  with  a  thousand  hues. 
'Indeed!'  I  hear  them  contemptuously  sneering,  'you  don't 
seem  to  be   aware,   sir,  that   ideal   beauty  is  the  great  centf^e 

and  lay  on,  of  all  thesc  extreme  varieties,  and  the  only  thing  worthy  of 
a  great  artist's  attention.'  '  Well,  gentlemen,'  say  /,  '  with- 
out inconsistency,  you  can't  get  out  of  the  way  of  the 
following  mouthful  :  there  are  (perhaps  you  will  allow) 
three  elementary  colours,  which  in  different  combinations 
produce  every  variety  of  hue  ;    but,  the  great  centre  of  these 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  71 

three  extremely  various  colours  is  grey,  non-colour  .  .  .  the 
ideal  of  a  bit  of  colouring,  "  the  only  thing  worthy  of  the 
attention  of  a  great  co tourist,''  is  a  picture  with  no  colour  in 
it  at  all!  However,  Messrs.  the  Generalisists  and  Apol- 
linisists  '  have  every  reason  to  congratulate  themselves  on 
the  extensive  circulation  of  their  views,  for  their  ideal'  is  but  bottle 
visible  in  every  haircutter's  window.  Never  mind,  I  must  again. 
contain  myself — but  the  rod  is  in  pickle  ! 

"A  glorious  amphitheatre  of  lofty  mountains!  On  one  Pebble  v. 
side  rugged,  sternly  rising,  crenelated,  grey,  snow-strewn ;  -^leran. 
on  the  other,  dreamy,  far  outspreading,  gently  vanishing, 
southward  luring,  softly  glowing,  wrapt  in  tints  of  loveliest 
azure,  gradually  blending  with  the  silver-fretted  sky.  A 
spreading,  fertile  gushing  valley.  Down  the  sunny,  swelling 
slopes,  across  the  embosomed  plain,  an  endless,  curling, 
wreathing  flood  of  gold-green  vines,  foaming  and  eddying 
with  purple  grapes.  Through  the  verdant  waves,  like  rushes 
in  a  stream,  the  Indian  corn  raises  its  slender  form  and 
feathered  head  in  long  array.  Beneath,  outstretched  at  ease, 
the  pumpkin  winks  and  yawns.  At  the  foot  of  a  steep- 
fronted,  purpling  rock,  skirting  the  glowing  vineyards,  a 
foaming  mountain  stream,  emerald  and  silver.  Along  the 
heights,  nestling  in  verdure,  rise  thickly  scattered,  castellated 
villas,  looking,  with  their  bright,  white  walls,  like  smiles  on 
the  face  of  the  earth.  An  epitome  of  what  is  rich  and  joyous 
and  unfettered  in  landscape.  The  Alpha  and  Omega  of  all 
that  is  charming  in  the  Tyrol.     Meran  ! 

'*  I  can  say  no  more  for  it. 

'•  To  my  mind,  it  is  inferior  to  Italy  only  in  one  respect  : 
it  is  wanting  in  that  glowing,  strongly  marked  individuality, 
that  earnest  beauty,  that  'charm  that  is  in  melancholy,'  which 
fascinates  so  powerfully  in  the  land  of  wine  and  oil. 


72  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Pebble  VI.         "  To  be  able  to  say  that,  on  returning  after  long  years  to 

Italy!        a  country  whose  image  memory  has,  during  the  whole  of  that 

time,  fondled  with  all  the  partiality  of  ardent  attachment,  one 

has  found    one's    best    expectations    realised,  is,  in  this  world 

of  disappointments  and  frustrated  expectations,  indeed  a   rare 

thing;    but    to   find   imagination   surpassed  by  reality  is    rarer 

still ;   yet  it  is  my  case  now  that   I   once  more  breathe  the  air 

and  tread  the  soil  of  Italy.     For  this,  I  feel  more  grateful  than 

I   can  say  ;  for  to  have  been  disappointed  in  these  hopes  would 

I  "real-      have  been  to  me  the  greatest  of  miseries  ;  as  it  is,  my  enjoyment 

Amertlns  IS  a  double  One:  that  which  is  occasioned  by  the  positive,  in- 

'^y'  trinsic  beauty  of  what  I  see,  and  that,  not  less  great,  of  recalling 

at  the  same  time  a  happy,  long-dwelt-on  past.      This  I   have 

and  find      more    particularly    experienced    since    my    arrival    in    Verona  ; 

reason  to       ^^^  ^^^^  ^  Queer  feature   in   my   queer  idiosyncrasy   obtrudes 

think  that  >■  , .  ,         .     .  .        , 

I  am  a       itsclf  to  noticc,  i.e.  the  extraordinary  dominion  exercised  over 
me   by  the  senses   of  smell  and   hearing!     That   I   do   labour 
under  these  peculiarities    I    always  knew,  but  to  what  a  ludi- 
crous extent,  I  did  not  find  out  till,  on  arriving  here  (Verona), 
I  was  suddenly  seized  by  a  gust  of  a  thousand  smells   and  a 
din  of  a  thousand   sounds,    some  always  remembered,    others 
long-forgotten,   suddenly   rising  up  again   to   my   memory.      I 
was  spellbound,  the  veil  of  the  past  was  torn  up,  I  was  fairly 
carried   back   against   the   stream    of   time.       Ridiculous  as    it 
may  sound,  my  enjoyment  of  Italy,  independently,  of  course, 
of  the  art  (which    is    an    extraordinary    tissue    of  reality    and 
illusion),    would    be    very   imperfect    without    this    combination 
of  trifles.      One  thing,    I   think,   must  affect  every  one  agree- 
ably ;    I   mean   the  exquisitely  humorous  cries  of  the  vendors 
in  the  thoroughfares  and  market-places  ;    who  could  hear  and 
not  remember  the  loud,   expostulatory  shriek  with  which  the 
one  dwells  on  the  excellencies  of  his  handkerchiefs,  the  argu- 
mentative   and    facetious    tone    in    which    another    infers    that 
comfort  is  not  possible  without  a  supply  of  his  matches,  that 


quee 
party 


ANTECEDENTS  AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  73 

urgent  wail  with  which  a  third  deplores  that  man  should 
have  so  little  appreciation  of  his  baked  apples,  the  muddy, 
half-suffocated  tenor  with  which  a  fourth  proclaims  his  water- 
melons, or  the  rabid,  piercing  soprano  which  seems  to  warn 
the  public  that  '  if  those  violets  are  not  bought  pretty  quick, 
there  will  soon  be  none  to  buy '  ?" 

"I  do  not  think  there  exists  anywhere  a  more  powerfully  Pebble 
and  fantastically  individual  town  than  Verona ;  it  is  to  Italy 
what  Nuremburg  is  to  Germany  ;  but  it  is  a  transfiguration 
of  Nuremburg  ;  in  point  of  wildly  picturesque  variety  it  defies 
description  and  surpasses  expectation  ;  it  is  saturated  with 
art ;  wherever  one  turns,  the  eye  is  struck  by  some  beautiful 
remnant  of  the  taste — that  was  ;  of  that  glowing,  sterling 
feeling  for  art,  which  spread  itself  over  everything,  and  en- 
nobled whatever  it  touched.  Hardly  a  house  that  cannot 
boast  of  a  sculptured  archway,  or  some  such  token  of  ancient 
splendour ;  not  a  church,  even  the  most  insignificant,  but  is 
crowded  with  old  paintings  in  oil  and  fresco,  few  of  which 
are  bad,  some  very  good,  a  few  excellent,  but  all  in  a  far 
higher  tone  of  feeling  than  nine-tenths  of  the  shallow,  papery 
daubs  with  which  the  nineteenth  century  covers  its  carcase 
of  steam  engines.  No  wonder — they  are  all  scriptural  or 
apocryphal  subjects,  and  were  all  painted  with  an  ardent 
belief  in  the  faith  to  which  they  all  owe  their  existence  ;  from 
thence  arose,  amongst  other  excellencies,  a  certain  naif, 
ingenuously  childlike  treatment  of  the  miraculous,  which, 
combined  with  the  manly  dignity  of  consummate  art,  gives 
them  an  indescribable  charm,  which  nothing  can  replace. 
Now — with  us,  at  least,  of  the  cold  belief — men  throw  really 
eminent  talents — to  the  dogs.  But,  for  us  Protestant  artists, 
things  are  made  much  worse  than  they  in  any  way  need  be,  by 
the  total  rejection  of  pictures  and  statuary  in  our  churches. 
Now,  three  centuries  back,  in  the  first  ebullition  of  reformatory 


74  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

fanaticism,  such  a  practice  was  not  only  comprehensible,  but 
even  a  natural  and  necessary  consequence  and  token  of 
their  total  disavowal  of  everything  approaching  to  the  Romish 
form  of  worship ;  but  its  continuance  at  present  amongst  us 
is,  not  only  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  Anglican  Church, 
which  after  all,  when  compared  to  Lutheranism  and  Cal- 
vinism, is  a  conservative  one,  but  is  founded  on  arguments 
altogether  untenable  with  any  degree  of  consistency  ;  for  if, 
as  we  are  told,  pictures  and  statues  distract  the  attention 
and  produce  a  worldly  frame  of  mind,  if  it  be  true  indeed 
that  works  of  high  a7't  (for,  of  course,  no  others  are  here 
taken  into  consideration),  than  which  surely  nothing  is  more 
calculated  to  raise  the  tone  of  the  mind  and  prepare  it  for 
the  reception  of  elevated  impressions,  have  indeed  so  per- 
nicious an  effect,  then,  it  is  evident,  by  the  same  argument, 
the  beauties  of  architecture,  the  eldest  of  the  sister  arts,  must 
be  equally  rejected ;  at  the  sight  of  a  Gothic  church,  that 
offspring  of  Christianity,  we  must  shrug  our  shoulders  and 
say  with  pious  aversion :  '  Vanitas  vanitatum !  '  But  the 
Church  of  England  has  not  gone  as  far  as  that ;  indeed, 
great  attention  is  paid  to  our  Church's  architecture  ;  is  there 
no  inconsistency  here  ?  Or  does  the  Church,  terrified  by 
the  example  of  Romish  image-worship,  fear  a  similar  evil 
amongst  us,  whose  belief  is  so  infinitely  more  circumscribed 
than  that  of  Rome  ?  Or  is  she  so  tender  of  admitting  symbols 
into  her  bosom,  she,  whose  corner-stone  is  a  symbol  :  the 
Last  Supper  ? 

"  To  return  to  Verona. 

Pebble  "  As  Gamba,  owing  to  the  time  which  my  letter   took  in 

reaching  him,  was  not  able  to  meet  me  at  the  time  appointed, 
I  remained  two  days  at  Verona,  days  to  which  I  shall  always 
look  back  with  unmixed  pleasure.  I  indulged,  this  time  (the 
more   that    I    knew   the    town    already),    in   the    luxury   of   not 


.    ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  75 

'  sight-seeing,'   but    strolled    about    the    whole    town    in    every 
direction,  dropping  into  churches,  staring  at  tombs  and  palaces 
and  piazzas  and  pictures,  just  as  if  rolled  past  me  in  the  ever- 
varying  panorama.      I  was  struck,  in  the  Tyrol,  with  the  pro- 
fusion  of  flowers   everywhere    displayed  ;    but  here    I    see   far  The 
more,  and  those,  too,  more  artistically  distributed  ;  they  rise  in  i^^ve''"^^^ 
double  and  treble  tiers  on,  in,  and  about  the  gracefully  curved  Ao^^ers, 
balconies,    and   assert    their    sway    wherever   human   ingenuity 
makes  it  possible  to  place  a  flower-pot,  and  in  a  great  many 
other  places  besides  ;  creepers  wreathe  from  window  to  window, 
and  vines  actually  springing  from  holes  in  the  walls,  with  no 
visible  root  or  origin  at  all,  spread  their  graceful  mantle  over 
the  walls  of  crumbling  palaces.     Of  the  Veronese  themselves, 
I    cannot    say  that    they  are   a    handsome    race ;    the    women 
especially,  though  they  have  a  great  deal  of  character  in  their 
features,   are  generally  far   from  good-looking.      Amongst  the 
peasants  I  saw  some  very  fine  men  ;  they  have,  some  of  them, 
very  good  legs,  slender  and  well  shaped  as  a  Donatello  or  a  and  have 
Ghiberti.  ^°°'  '^^" 

"  On  Thursday  Gamba  came,  just  as  I  was  giving  him  up  Thursday, 
in  a  high  state  of  despair  and  mystification.      We  hurried  at  26!^"^ 
once  by  Padua  to  Venice,  where  I   found  your  letter.  Gamba. 

"As  I  look  through  what  I  have  written,  before  sending  it  i  look 
off  to  you,  I  feel,  painfully,  that  my  style  is  clumsy,  stuttering,  fed 
incoherent ;  that   I   am  wordy,  without  saying  enough ;  that  I  ^s*^^"^^^' 
am  overfree  in  my  use  of  fanciful  epithets,  without  giving  an 
adequate   idea  of  the   suggestive  beauty  of  what   I    see  ;   that 
I   am  sometimes  almost  mawkish,  without  saying  half  I   feel ; 
that    I    am    incorrigibly   slovenly    and    forgetful  ;    that    I    can't 
write,   that    I   can't  spell.      In   answer  to    all   this,    I    can  only  and  make 
answer  by  referring  to  a  little  premonitory  observation  at  the  ''^"'"^y 
foot  of  my  first  page,  i.e.  Quality  of  Pebbles  not  zvarraiited. 


excuse. 


76 


THE   LIFE    OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 


BATCH  No.  2. 

(This  blank  represents  three  weeks.) 
Sept.  i6.  ''September   i6. — Many    happy    returns    of  the    day,    dear 

Gussy !  The  other  day  I  took  a  pair  of  scales,  and  put  into 
the  one  vessel  the  price  you  would  have  to  pay  for  the  postage 
of  a  congratulatory  letter  to  be  received  by  you  on  your  birth- 
day, and  into  the  other  a  pleasure  which  a  surprise  might 
afford  you  ;  the  postage  outweighed  its  rival ;  so  I  wrote  no 
letter.  If  my  directions  have  been  attended  to,  you  will,  no 
doubt,  have  received  a  far  more  satisfactory  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  my  good  wishes. 
Sept.  i8.  ''September  i8. — The   same  to  you,   Papa!    .    .    .    Can  the 

river  offer  its  fountain  a  dririk  f 


Pebble  I. 
Sept.  19. 


I  lucu- 
brate, 

when  I 
consider. 
&c.  &c., 


whereas, 
&c.  &c., 


and  even 
then,  &c. 
&c., 


"  Three  weeks  (apparently  months)  have  elapsed  since  I 
last  soared  on  the  descriptive  pinion  ;  now,  and  only  now,  on 
the  eve  of  my  departure  from  Venice,  I  find  time  and  leisure 
again  to  pour  on  the  past  a  libation  of  pen  and  ink.  I  resume 
the  quill  with  a  feeling  of  disheartenment.  With  what  in- 
tentions did  I  begin  to  write  this  (journal)  ?  Had  I  not  hoped 
to  note  down,  at  once  and  in  all  their  freshness,  my  emotions 
and  impressions  just  as  I  should  receive  them  ?  and  to  speak 
also  sometimes  of  the  thousand  little  incidents  that  fall  in  one's 
path,  and  which  form  the  arabesque  round  the  chapter  of  life  ? 
And  how  are  my  hopes  fulfilled  ?  Behold  me,  on  the  morning 
of  the  last  day,  the  day  of  parting,  packing,  paying,  and  pass- 
ports, forced  to  throw  in  a  hurried  and  disconnected  heap  a 
few  general  remarks  concerning  what  I  have  seen  and  heard 
and  felt  and  found,  and  not  found,  during  my  stay  in  the  home 
of  Titian.  And  even  that,  how  difficult !  For  in  this  short 
stay,  sight  has  succeeded  sight,  emotion  has  followed  emotion, 
in    one    continued    merry-go-round  ;    I    have   been    alternately 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  77 

grave  and  gay,  melancholy  and  jocose,  dejected  and  enrap- 
tured ;  add  to  this  that  in  my  mind,  as  in  the  dissolving 
views,  one  picture  always  effaces  its  predecessor,  and  you  will 
at  once  perceive  that  I  am  in  the  position  of  a  man  trying  to 
see  the  pebbles  at  the  bottom  of  a  muddy  brook,  or  his  natural 
face  in  a  basin  of  gruel. 

"  Now,  I  again  repeat  what  I  made  a  preliminary  condition  :  but  you 
that    I    send   you   the  pebbles,  loose  and   disjointed,  and   that   '"°"''  ^^' 
I  don't  undertake  to  make  a  necklace  of  them. 

"  *  But  whose  fault  is  all  this.'* '  (I  hear  you  ask). 

"  During  my  stay  here  (I  continue,  without  attending  to  your  besides, 
question)  I  have  been  up  nearly  every  day  before  the  sun  (about  fault.    "^^ 
five  o'clock),  and  after  working  and  tearing  about  the  town  all 
day,  towards  evening  I  was  not  sorry  to  .   .   . 

"  Do  you  guess  how  it  was  I  wrote  so  little.^ 

"  Here  a  little  observation  obtrudes  itself  to  my  notice.  Man  a  little 
(for  there  is  nothing  like  throwing  your  own  frailties  on  man-  '^'^'^'^'°" 
kind  in  general)  is  born  with  an  irresistible  tendency  to  talk 
at  something  or  somebody ;  eighteen  pages  back  I  was  talking 
to  nobody ;  or,  if  I  did  address  anything,  it  was  that  very 
vague  personage,  the  future  ;  now  I  find  myself  getting  more 
and  more  personal ;  yoiis,  I  expect,  will  soon  get  up  to  fifty 
per  cent. 

"  Venice  !  Mighty  word,  city  of  endless  associations,  image  p^^^^^^  ^^• 
that  fills  the  mind !  What  impressions  has  it  left  on  me  ? 
I  shrink  from  answering  a  question  so  difficult  to  3.nsyj&r  fairly, 
and  from  dissecting  a  point  of  such  intricate  anatomy.  Whilst 
I  think  it  over,  I  will  give  you  a  picture  or  two  to  look  at ;  you 
shall  have  a  peep  out  of  the  window  where  I  sit  writing.  It  is  a  picture. 
early  morning,  everything  is  cool  and  calm,  in  silent,  almost 
breathless  expectation  of  the  not  yet  risen  sun.  Before  your 
eyes  rises  one  of  the  most  splendid  views  in  Europe,  that  of 
the  Grand  Canal  from  the  steps  of  the  Academy  ;  the  stately. 


78 


THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 


(Paren- 
thetic 
Pebble 
about 
Gondolas. 


dark  green  street  of  waters  reflects  on  its  wide-spreading  mirror 
the  grey  and  crumbling  palaces,  and  the  lovely  form  of  Sta. 
Maria  della  Salute,  with  her  domes  of  dazzling  white.  Not 
a  ripple  mars  its  glossy  surface,  except  where,  at  rare  intervals, 
some  silent  gondola  glides  swiftly  along,  scattering  the  sparkling 
drops  from  its  graceful  oar,  or  where,  here  and  there,  the  playful 
'  aura  mattutina '  has  left  too  rough  a  kiss  upon  its  slumbering 
cheek.  No  sound  is  heard,  but  the  distant,  even,  measured 
chimes,  that  seem  to  be  rocking  on  the  silence  of  the  morning. 
Along  its  marge,  singly,  or  clustering  in  close  array  beneath 
roofs  of  vine-covered  trellis,  lie  the  far-famed,  ebon-coloured, 
swiftly  gliding  gondolas  of  Venice.  '  Gondolas  ! '  Whilst  the 
sun  is  rising,  let  me  say  a  word  or  two  on  gondolas.  It  has 
always  excited  my  great  surprise  that  these  barks,  which  are 
graceful  almost  beyond  imagination,  are,  in  point  of  fact,  in 
their  present  shape  the  offspring  of  a  period,  next  to  our  own, 
the  most  execrable  in  point  of  taste  which  the  world  has 
produced.  I  mean  the  end  of  the  seventeenth,  or  rather  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Yet,  so  it  is.  In  the 
time  of  Carpaccio  and  the  Bellinis  they  were  queer,  tolerably 
uncouth  contrivances,  about  two-thirds  of  their  present  length, 
pointed  and  equally  curved  at  both  ends,  so  as  to  resemble  as 
nearly  as  possible  a  slice  of  melon,  dead  of  the  cholera.  In 
Titian's  day  the  shape  began  to  taper  out  a  little,  and  the  iron 
points  or  knobs,  at  both  ends,  rose  to  a  greater  height,  and 
were  enriched  with  a  serrated  ornament ;  but  they  did  not 
assume  their  present  slender  proportions  and  graceful  orna- 
ment, at  the  prow  only,  till  the  eighteenth  century ;  as  also 
the  mysterious  and  exquisitely  comfortable  little  cabins  or 
coffins,  which  now  surmount  them,  and  which  formerly  were 
open  behind  and  before,  forcing  the  passenger  to  sit  upright ! 
They  contained  then  the  rudiment  of  an  idea  of  grace,  which 
took  its  natural  growth  and  development  in  spite  of  man. 
Meanwhile,    for    I    have    been    watching    him,    the    sun    has 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  79 

appeared  above  the  horizon  ;  not  that  I  see  his  own,  real, 
glorious  face,  for  he  is  hidden  behind  an  ancient  palace,  but 
I  see  his  reflection  glowing  in  the  eye  of  nature.  First  a 
gentle,  tremulous,  golden  light  began  to  steal  along  the 
dappled  morning  sky,  warning  all  the  little,  distant,  fleecy 
clouds  to  shake  their  plumes,  for  that  it  was  going  to  begin  ; 
then,  of  course,  the  water  took  up  the  tune ;  and  then  (it 
was  fit  the  biggest  building  should  set  the  example)  the 
'  Salute '  assumed  a  saffron  hue,  and  gradually  one  by  one 
all  the  palaces  on  one  side  of  the  Canal,  right  up  to  our 
windows,  and,  did  not  you  notice  ?  your  own  face  took  quite 
a  shine.  For  a  while  you  yourself  and  everything  round  you 
seems  wrapped  in  a  trance  ;  presently  you  begin  to  write. 
How  is  this?  The  whole  picture  begins  to  dance  and 
quiver.  Our  Lady  della  Salute  glows  with  a  deeper  blush, 
and  trembles.  Then,  suddenly,  her  redness  vanishes,  her 
glorious  countenance  sparkles,  and  she  raises  her  stately  form 
in  a  garment  of  burnished  silver  ;  the  gondolas  that  nestle 
round  her  feet,  and  hem  in  the  whole  length  of  the  Canal, 
seem  like  a  hllet  of  sparkling  gems  around  a  web  of  emerald 
and  gold  ;  the  sky  is  a  sea  of  light ;  the  sun  is  in  the  wide 
heavens — it's  time  for  breakfast.     Waiter,  coffee  and  rolls  ! 

"'Do    you    mean,'    I    hear    you    urge,    'to    come    to    the  i  am  re- 
point,  and  tell  us  how  you  like  Venice  ? '  mm  e  , 

"Another  picture!  (pretending  not  to  hear).  The  same  but  take 
scene,  but  under  a  different  aspect.  How  different!  Just 
now  it  was  a  scene  of  dawning  life,  a  burst  of  gladness — 
now  it  is  a  mild,  a  gentle  dream,  an  Italian  moonlight  night, 
a  Venetia7i  moonlight  night — calm,  clear,  soft,  fancy  stirring. 
You  lean  idly  out  of  the  window  ;  there  are  two  of  you,  or 
ought  to  be,  but  you  don't  say  anything  to  one  another  ;  you 
are  rocked  in  silence ;  you  feel  the  sweet,  warm  breath  of 
night  pass  over  your  cheek  ;  you  think  of  Shakespeare's  ex- 
quisite verses  on  what  he  never  saw  but  with  the  eye  of  his 


no  notice. 
Pebble  IV. 


So  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

boundless  fancy ;  you  are  sitting  with  Jessica  and  Lorenzo 
(that  is  his  name,  I  think)  on  a  bank  of  violets ;  you  are 
anxiously  waiting  for  Portia  and  her  company  ;  your  ear  is 
attentive  to  every  sound ;  presently  a  sweet,  half-heard  strain, 
like  a  distant  echo,  dawns  on  your  ear  ;  then  it  is  lost  again  ; 
again  it  swells,  and  seems  to  glide  gently  along  the  shadowy 
waters  towards  you,  nearer,  still  nearer.  You  see  a  track  of 
gleaming  light  along  the  water,  and  at  intervals  a  shower  of 
tiny  stars  ;  it's  no  illusion  ;  they  glide  along  towards  you,  the 
voices  that  rose  from  the  distant  waters ;  they  are  almost 
beneath  your  window.  Quick,  quick,  a  gondola  ;  a  dozen  or 
more  musicians,  with  every  kind  of  instrument,  sit  together 
in  a  bark,  and  alternately  play  and  sing  lovely  melodies  by 
the  musicians  of  Italy.  As  long  as  the  strain  lasts  the  oar 
is  suspended,  and  the  Boating  orchestra  drifts  slowly  along 
with  the  slowly  ebbing  tide  ;  round  it,  a  cluster  of  gondolas, 
full  of  breathless  listeners  whose  very  soul  seems  to  melt 
with  the  delicious  sounds,  and  combine  with  them — at  least, 
you  can  answer  for  yourself,  for  you  are  one  of  them.  Those 
are  moments  which  you,  I  am  sure,  will  never  forget. 
You  in-  "  '  You  are  beating  about  the  bush,  we  want  an  ans  .  .  .  .' 

butTuiTe  "Another  picture!  (taking  no  notice  of  you) — a  bit  of 
no  notice.  Qioreione,  coloured  by  Veronese.  You  are  in  an  atelier ;  pic- 
^  ^  ■  tures  and  sketches  in  different  stages  of  advancement  lie  about 
the  tables  and  cover  the  easels  ;  at  one  end  of  the  room  you 
see  a  large  cupboard  ;  its  open  doors  betray  within  layers  of 
rich  old  silks  and  damasks,  some  made  up,  some  in  pieces, 
as  they  were  found  at  the  antiquary's  ;  further,  an  old  mando- 
line, that  perhaps  could  tell  of  the  days  of  Titian.  Through 
the  large,  gaping  window  you  look  upon  a  group  of  the  most 
picturesque  Venetian  houses,  with  their  fanciful  basket-shaped 
chimneys  and  irregular  windows  and  thousand  -  fold  tints ; 
the  foreground  is  gracefully  supplied  by  a  screen  of  slender, 
net-like    trees,   amongst    which    heavy-laden   vines  wreathe  in 


W^" 


I 


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^    •  O'v,. 


O  YOUTZ 


STUDY  OF  BYZANTINE  WELL  HEAD,     Venice,  1852 
By  permission  of  Mr,  S.  Pepys  Cockerell 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  8i 

fanciful  festoons.  But  where  is  Werner  ?  the  amiable  inmate 
of  this  charming  snuggery ;  where  his  pupils  ?  Ah,  I  hear 
them !  Hark !  in  the  garden,  a  merry  laugh,  a  clattering  of 
cups,  a  sound  of  several  voices,  a  suggestion  of  enjoyment ; 
you  rush  to  the  scene  of  action  ;  on  your  road  you  nearly 
break  your  neck  over  a  table  covered  with  the  remains  of 
a  hearty  dinner.  A  few  yards  further,  you  see  half-a-dozen 
young  men  (of  course  artists)  stretched,  in  every  variety  of 
ingeniously  comfortable  attitude,  on  a  temporary  floor  of 
Turkey  carpets,  in  a  cool,  clear,  shady  spot  beneath  arches 
of  roof-weaving  vines  ;  in  the  middle,  at  comfortable  arm's 
length,  coffee,  and  heaps  of  purple  grapes,  whilst  the  in- 
tervals of  conversation  are  filled  by  affectionate  and  earnest 
appeals  to  long  Turkish  pipes.  You  approach  ;  you  are  recog- 
nised ;  seized  by  the  hand,  thrown  down  on  the  carpet ;  and 
presently  you  perceive  that  an  entire  afternoon  is  gone  by  ! 
But  that  afternoon  becomes  a  landmark  to  you.  May  not 
such  reminiscences  well  endear  a  place  to  one's  memory  ? 

"'Well,  then,    I   suppose  .   .  .'  (say  you). 

"  Never  mind,  let  me  continue. 

"  Another    impression.      You    are    sitting,     early     in    the  More 

•    ^  ^  V  ^    where  the 

mornmg,  m  a  spacious,  picturesque  court  ;  you  have  got  rest  came 
your  sketch-book,  and  you  are  busily  poring  over  a  draw-  ^'^°™- 
ing  of  a  beautiful  old  Saracenic  well ;  you  are  intent  on  doing 
it  well,  on  cutting  out  that  friend  you  have  got  with  you. 
Presently  you  are  seized  with  a  peculiar  sensation ;  you 
have  heard,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  voice  of  an  old,  old  friend, 
who  speaks  to  you  of  things  you  don't  see  round  you  ;  a 
veil  falls  from  your  eyes  ;  you  feel  that  you  have  missed 
something  for  some  time  past  ;  a  vision  rises  before  your 
eyes — a  sweet  vision  of  wooded  hills  and  grassy  fields,  teem- 
ing with  a  thousand  wild  flowers  and  sending  forth  a  sweet 
smell,  and  of  flowing  streams,  o{  fresh  waters,  of  birds  singing 
merrily    as    they    fly    from    tree    to    tree,    and    swing    on    the 

VOL.   I.  F 


82  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

slender  branches ;  and  then  you  remember  that  you  dwell 
in  a  mysterious  city,  closed  in  by  the  salty  sea.  Who  was 
the  friend  that  called  up  these  lively  images  in  your  mind  ? 
It  was  a  poor,  solitary,  wandering  Bee.  But  he  suggested 
something  else  to  you,  the  roaming  honey-gatherer — he  re- 
minded you  of  freedom ;  reminded  you  that  Freedom  had 
no  home  there ;  and  he  made  you  /ee/  how  much  you  had 
felt  it,  how  much  you  had  been  unconsciously  haunted  by 
the  breath  of  oppression  that  hovers  over  poor,  browbeaten 
Venice,  and  whose  pestilence  clings  to  its  rocky  shore,  as 
the  rankling  seaweed  to  the  skirts  of  its  palaces.  Poor 
Venice !  once  resounding  with  joyous  voices,  now  its  walls 
seem,  as  you  pass  them,  to  mutter  mournfully  of  arrests, 
condemnations,  executions!  Its  narrow  streets  re-echo  with 
the  heavy  tread  of  exulting  soldiers,  with  the  watchword 
of  a  foreio^n  tona^ue.  Palaces  and  convents  are  become  bar- 
racks  and  infirmaries,  and  Slavonian  troopers  loll  and  spit 
where  the  proudest  lords  and  loveliest  ladies  of  Venice  used 
to  assemble  to  the  banquet  or  the  ball.  But  I  turn  away 
from  such  sad  reflections,  lest  they  may  seem  to  outweigh 
all  the  delight  that  I  have  spoken  of  before. 

"  I  have  rehearsed  to  you  a  few  of  my  impressions  for  good 

and  for  evil,  and   I  think  that  was  the  only  way  of  answering 

your  (imaginary)    questions.      I    need    make    no   apologies    for 

not    describing  Venice  to  you,   as  you    have    all    seen    it,  and 

it   is   a   place    the    image    of  which    does    not  easily    fade.      I 

Pebble  VI.   might  Say    a    word    or   two    about    the  Venetians.     Whatever 

some    people    may    say    (and,    if    I   am    not    mistaken,    Byron 

What  I       amongst  them),  the  female  Venetian  type,  such  as  it  is  trans- 

about  it.      mitted   to  us  by  Titian,  Giorgione,  Pordenone,  &c.   {i.e.  stout, 

tall,    round-faced,    small-mouthed,    Roxolaiie-nosed)    has    either 

totally   disappeared,  or  only  manifests  itself  to  a  chosen  few  ; 

one   feature  only    I  recognise,   and  that   is  a  profusion  of  fine 

hair,  which  they  plait  in  the  most  elaborate  manner.     A  thing 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  83 

that  rather  puzzles  those  who  go  to  Venice  with  the  idea 
of  seeing  Titians  and  Veroneses  at  the  windows  and  in  the 
streets,  is  that  the  women  have  altogether  left  off  dyeing  their 
hair  auburn  as  they  used  in  former  times.  To  show  you 
that  vanity  made  the  fair  sex  go  through  the  greatest  personal 
discomfort  as  far  back  as  the  sixteenth  century,  I  will  tell 
you  what  the  process  of  dyeing  was.  On  the  top  of  nearly 
every  house  in  Venice  is  a  kind  of  terrace-like  scaffold,  or 
scaffold-like  terrace  ('you  pays  your  money  and  takes  your 
choice '),  which  has  the  noble  vocation  of  drying  linen  ;  in 
former  days,  however,  they  were  built  for  a  different  purpose. 
In  the  middle  of  the  day,  during  the  greatest  heat  of  the 
sun,  the  party  anxious  to  impart  to  her  hair  a  tint  between 
sugar-candy  and  radishes  repaired  to  these  lofty  spots,  and 
there  regularly  bleached  her  hair  in  the  following  manner : 
she  put  on  her  head  the  brim  of  a  large  straw  hat,  so  that 
the  top  of  the  head  was  exposed  to  all  the  power  of  the 
sun,  whilst  the  face  and  neck  were  kept  in  the  shade. 
Through  the  hole  thus  left  in  the  middle  of  this  extraordi- 
nary  headgear  the  whole  of  the  hair  was  drawn,  and  spread 
out  as  much  as  possible ;  which  done,  different  kinds  of 
waters,  made  for  the  express  purpose,  were  passed  over  it 
by  means  of  a  little  sponge  fastened  to  the  top  of  a  reed. 
History  does  not  give  the  exact  number  of  coups-de-soleil 
caught  in  this  manner  ;  a  few,  I  should  imagine.  However, 
I  can  warrant  the  accuracy  of  my  statement,  which  is  bor- 
rowed from  a  contemporary  author  of  the  highest  standing. 
The  men  of  Venice  are  neither  handsome  in  the  face  nor 
well  made  in  the  body.  The  Venetian  dialect  is  amusing; 
in  the  mouth  of  a  woman,  if  well  spoken,  it  is  pretty,  musical, 
childlike,  lisping  ;  but  in  the  mouth  of  a  man,  for  the  most 
part,   muddy,  stammering,  unintelligible. 

•'There,   much  as  still  remains  to  say,  and  willingly  as   I 


84  THE    LIFE    OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 

dwell  on  its  memory,  I  must  discard  Venice,  and  turn  to  your 
kind  letter,  for  it  is  now,  I  am  afraid,  more  than  a  month  since 
I  last  wrote.  This  delay  has,  however,  been  unavoidable,  for 
when  one  is  travelling,  or  staying  a  short  time  in  a  place,  one  is 
always  hurried  and  flurried  in  the  day-time,  and  in  the  evening 
tired  or  excited — or  both.  Next  time  you  hear  from  me  (which 
will  be  when  I  reach  Rome)  my  communication  will  openly  take 
the  shape  that  this  has  imperceptibly  been  attaining,  that  of  a 
letter  ;  when  I  am  once  settled  for  the  winter  I  shall,  I  hope,  be 
better  able  to  write  an  jour  le  jour.  Before  entering  into  your 
letter,  which  will  be  a  longish  job,  I  must  acknowledge  the 
receipt  of  one  from  Papa,  containing  part  of  my  remittance  ;  it 
was  written  in  most  kind  terms  (I  tell  you  this  because  you 
can't  have  seen  it,  since  he  wrote  in  London),  and  was,  I  think, 
the  longest  I  ever  got  from  him,  at  all  events  it  was  the  first  in 
which  he  said  anything  beyond  what  was  necessary  to  business. 
It  gave  me  sincere  pleasure.  I  was  touched,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  distance  had  brought  me  nearer  to  him  ;  pray  thank  him 
both  for  that  and  for  the  consideration  with  which  he  has  pro- 
vided for  an  emergency  which  will  in  fact  arise — that  of  my  not 
reaching  Rome  in  October  ;  I  do  not  expect  to  get  there  until 
the  first  week  in  November.  Of  one  thing  I  must  remind 
Papa  ;  he  talks  of  sending  to  Rome  the  remaming  eighty  pounds 
of  my  second  quarter  ;  he  has,  I  am  afraid,  forgotten  that  he 
gave  me  sixty  for  my  first  ;  my  remittance  this  time  is  only 
forty  pounds,  he  therefore  has  only  twenty  to  send  to  Rome. 
"  I  now  turn  to  your  letter,  dear  Mamma;  I  lay  it  by  my 
side,  and  as  I  read  it  slowly  through,  answer  it  systematically, 
head  for  head,  for  in  my  present  hurry  I  have  indeed  no  time 
to  pick  and  choose,  or  to  arrange  my  topics  according  to  their 
importance  and  interest,  or  even  to  consult  as  much  as  I  wish 
the  little  amusement  that  my  letters  give  you.  However,  I 
console  myself  a  little  with  the  reflection  that  it  certainly  is 
not   the  composition   of  my  letters   which   gratifies  you   much, 


ANTECEDENTS   AND    SCHOOL    DAYS  85 

for  I  am  painfully  aware  that  my  ideas  are  brought  to  paper 
with  about  as  much  order  as  the  footprints  of  a  cock-sparrow 
show  on  a  gravel-walk. 

"You  say,  dear  Mamma,  that  you  have  a  fear  of  not  telling 
me  all  that  I  wish  to  hear ;  and  there,  indeed,  you  are  right, 
for  if  you  were  to  tell  me  all  that  I  wish  to  know  about  your 
doings,  you  might  write  for  a  week  ;  but  you  are  equally 
right  in  supposing  that  whatever  you  write  concerning  your- 
self (and  selves)  is  full  of  interest  to  your  distant  Punch. 
About  my  health  ?  Well,  I  plead  guilty,  steaks  do  still  con- 
tinue to  be  to  me  physical  consciences ;  this  admonitory  part 
they  took  more  especially  at  Venice,  where  the  climate,  I 
must  confess,  did  not  agree  with  me  particularly  well.  This 
is  perhaps  attributable  to  the  water,  which  was  particularly 
bad  there,  for  my  diet  was  of  the  simplest  description.  Judge 
for  yourself:  in  the  morning  early,  coffee  and  dry  bread  (I 
have  discarded  butter  to  keep  company  with  Gamba,  who  is 
not  in  the  habit  of  eating  any)  ;  at  eleven  or  so,  fruit  and 
bread  ;  at  four  or  five,  a  simple  dinner  ;  and  in  the  evening, 
an  ice  or  a  cup  of  coffee.      Here  I  live  much  in  the  same  way. 

"  I  am  truly  delighted  to  hear  that  you  are  accommo- 
dating yourself  a  little  to  an  English  climate  ;  if  you  once 
get  over  that  one  great  obstacle,  nothing  else  need  prevent 
your  establishing  yourself  in  the  country  which,  after  all,  is 
still  the  dearest  to  you ;  with  the  prospect  of  pleasant  and 
desirable  society  for  yourself  and  the  girls,  and  of  other 
resources  for  Papa,  there  is  every  reason  to  hope  that  you 
will  find  in  Bath  what  you  have  so  long  wished  for,  a  home 
in  England!' 

Speaking  of  his  elder  sister's  suffering,  he  continues  : — 

"  I  feel,  almost,  a  kind  of  shame  that  so  much  should  have 
been  poured  down  on  me,  who  have  deserved  it  less.  To 
become    deserving    of  it,   must    be    my  great,    never-wavering 


86  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

endeavour  ;  I  will  put  my  talent  to  usury,  and  be  no  slothful 
steward  of  what  has  been  entrusted  to  me.  Every  man  who 
has  received  a  gift,  ought  to  feel  and  act  as  if  he  was  a  field 
in  which  a  seed  was  planted  that  others  might  gather  the 
harvest. 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  that  Lady  Leighton  is  getting 
on  well,  and  as  much  gratified  at  having  made  on  her  a 
favourable  impression  ;  pray  tell  her  that  her  presence  and 
conversation  inspired  me  with  a  desire  to  please  her,  and  that 
her  affectionate  reception  has  still  a  lively  hold  on  my  memory. 

"  You  tell  me  that  you  were  touched  at  Steinle's  kind- 
ness to  me,  and  indeed  it  was  such  as  might  well  touch  any 
one ;  this  time  you  will  be  touched  at  his  affliction,  poor 
man,  he  has  just  had  a  heavy  misfortune — the  most  affec- 
tionate of  fathers  has  lost  another  child,  the  second,  in  a 
year  and  a  half;  I  heard  this  from  Andre,  who  has  just 
arrived  from  Frankfurt,  and  who  called  on  the  unfortunate 
man  before  he  started  and  found  him  much  dejected.  He 
said  in  his  melancholy  but  calm  tone  of  voice  :  '  Ich  habe 
eine  Tochter  begraben.'  You  think  it  improbable  that  I 
shall  find  a  second  Steinle  ;  I  delight  in  the  belief  that  there 
is  none. 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  your  finding  it  impossible  to 
imagine  an  artist  without  a  genuine  love  for  nature.  In  any 
but  an  age  of  perverted  taste  such  a  thing  could  not  exist  ; 
but  it  is  only  too  true  that  that  most  essential  of  qualities 
has  become  obsolete,  and  is  hardly  to  be  found  at  all.  Artists 
now  are  full  of  breadtk  and  depth  ;  and,  between  us  and  the 
doorpost,  flat7iess.  On  this  subject  I  mean  to  tell  you  more 
in  my  next  letter,  when  I  speak  more  particularly  of  my 
artistic  impressions  and  opinions,  which  I  have  not  yet  done. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  what  you  tell  me  about  the  comfort 
you  enjoy  in  Bath,  from  the  superior  cleanliness  and  decency 
of  behaviour   of  English   servants  over   foreign   ones  ;   it  is  a 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL   DAYS  87 

thing  to  which  I  am  particularly  alive,  and  which  struck  me 
very  much  last  time  1  was  in  England ;  Gussy  too,  I  am 
sure,  appreciated  it  very  much.  I  am  sorry  that  1  cannot 
participate  in  your  enthusiasm  about  the  beauties  of  Bath 
(barring,  of  course,  the  situation,  which  is  charming),  but  I 
will  say  nothing  against  it,  as  I  am  only  too  glad  that  you 
should  be  pleased  with  it.  I  quite  follow  you  in  your  ad- 
miration of  the  edifices  in  Westminster  ;  I  think  that,  taking 
them  altogether,  they  form  one  of  the  finest  groups  of  archi- 
tecture that  I  ever  saw  ;  but  what  particularly  pleases  me  in 
the  Houses  of  Parliament  is  the  example  they  set  of  building 
in  that  style  of  architecture  which  is  our  own,  the  growth, 
as  it  were,  of  our  soil,  and  which  therefore  best  befits  our 
country.  Such  feelings,  I  have  reason  to  believe,  are  becom- 
ing prevalent  in  England,  and  they  may  have  great  results  ; 
but  I  reserve  all  this  for  another  letter.  I  am  glad  to  hear 
of  the  institution  you  tell  me  of  for  the  cultivation  of  good 
principles ;  I  believe  that  the  greatness  of  England  will  not 
be  as  ephemeral  as  that  of  the  other  nations  that  have  had 
the  lead  in  succession,  because  so  much  is  done  to  con- 
solidate and  increase  in  strength  the  basis  on  which  it  stands, 
and  which  is  the  best  prop  to  the  enduring  prosperity  of  a 
nation,  uprightness  and  morality. 

"  I  have  now  followed  and  answered  your  letter,  from 
beginning  to  end,  from  point  to  point,  it  is  time  I  should 
close  ;  next  time  I  write,  I  shall  be  in  Rome,  settled  for  the 
winter. — Believe  me,  dear  Mamma,  with  very  best  love  to 
all,  your  most  affectionate  and  dutiful  son, 

"  Fred  Leighton." 

Trans  lati 071  i\ 

Venice,  ^ist  Augrtst. 

"Honoured  and  very  dear  Herr  Steinle, — If  I  did 
not,  according  to  our  agreement,  write  to  you  directly  Rico  ^ 

*  Count  Gamba. 


88  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

arrived,  it  was  because  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  put 
you  off  with  two  words,  whereas  I  had  neither  time  nor  leisure 
to  write  you  anything  detailed.  Now,  however,  arrived  and 
established  in  Venice,  I  take  up  my  pen  to  repair  the  neglect. 
It  is  a  lovely,  cool,  clear  summer  morning ;  I  sit  at  my 
window  on  the  Grand  Canal,  and  before  my  eyes  rises  in 
glorious  beauty  the  incomparable  outline  of  Sta.  Maria  della 
Salute  with  the  adjoining  Dogano.  The  newly  risen  sun  (it 
is  five  o'clock  in  the  morning)  throws  a  golden,  enchanted 
light  along  one  side  of  the  Canal  ;  the  gondolas  and  barges, 
which  nestle  in  a  numerous  array  at  the  steps  of  the  Salute, 
glitter  in  the  dusky  distance  like  gleaming  jewels  on  the 
borders  of  the  silver  mirror  of  the  water,  whose  clear  bosom 
is  gently  ruffled  by  the  soft  breath  of  dawn.  All  is  still, 
except  the  distant  church  bells.  What  words  can  give  an 
idea  of  such  a  sight  ?  I  gaze  about  me  in  a  day-dream  and 
think  of  you,  the  dear  friend,  the  honoured  master  ;  all  that 
I  owe  you  for  heartfelt  sympathy  and  wise  guidance,  and 
cannot  pay,  rises  before  my  grateful  soul,  and  reminds  me 
that  I  have  lost  one  whom  I  shall  miss  many  a  time.  I 
hope  with  all  my  heart  that  your  stay  in  the  mountains  of 
Appenzell  will  have  given  you  fresh  strength,  and  that  in 
all  respects  you  are  re-established  and  invigorated  according 
to  your  expectations. 

"  Now,  however,  as  I  am  to  speak  of  myself,  and  to  give 
some  account  of  my  impressions  on  my  journey,  I  note  that 
for  me  the  potent  picture  of  Italy,  of  Venice,  has  pushed 
all  that  went  before  into  the  background,  almost  blotted  it 
out,  so  that  now  it  floats  before  me  like  a  dim  remembrance  ; 
but  with  two  exceptions  :  two  pictures  have  impressed  them- 
selves deeply  on  my  memory,  and  will  certainly  not  be  easily 
erased — I  mean  the  Franciscaii  church  at  Innsbruck  and 
lovely  Meran.  You  were  indeed  right  when  you  said  that 
the   cast  giants  in  that  church  are  the  grandest  achievement 


ANTECEDENTS   AND   SCHOOL    DAYS  85 

of  German  sculpture ;  they  are  colossal,  a  truly  imposing- 
spectacle,  brilliant  monuments  of  an  age  of  noble  taste. 
What  eternal  truth !  What  an  amazing  impress  of  indivi- 
duality !  Of  marvellous  execution  that  never  borders  on  the 
little,  full  of  breadth  and  strength,  and  yet  nobly  slender, 
they  are  the  most  perfect  example  oi  economy  of  detail ;  what 
a  sharp  contrast  ito  the  superficial  stone-hammering  (I  might 
say)  of  to-day ;  what  an  everlasting  shaming  to  the  nine- 
teenth century !  I  could  name  many  sculptors  who  could 
not  look  at  these  things  without  profit. 

"  Meran !  What  an  indelible,  fascinating  picture  floats 
before  one's  eyes  at  the  name ;  this  Alpha  and  Omega  of 
all  that  is  lovely  in  Tyrol ;  this  lovely  amphitheatre  of  moun- 
tains, rugged  on  one  side,  and  steep  and  covered  with  snow 
on  the  other,  glowing  in  the  purple  gleam  of  the  south — 
widely  extended,  melting  away,  alluring ;  this  fertile  plain ; 
this  gold-green  flood  of  climbing  vines,  hanging  down  like 
waterfalls  from  the  espaliers  on  the  mountain  slopes,  with 
the  purple  foam  of  the  vines  ;  these  thousand  pleasure-houses 
and  castles  ;  the  picturesque  costume ! 

"But  why  so  many  words?  You  have  seen  this  beauty 
yourself,  and  have  no  doubt  a  clearer  picture  of  it  than  I 
can  paint  for  you, 

"  In  Botzen,  to  my  very  great  regret,  I  was  unable  to 
see  Herr  von  Hempel,  since  he  was  staying,  not  in  his  town 
house,  but  in  a  castle  at  a  distance  of  two  hours ;  but  I 
visited  Becker's  brother.  He  received  me  in  a  most  friendly 
manner,  asked  much  after  his  brother,  of  whom  he  had 
heard  nothing  for  more  than  a  year,  and  told  me  that  his 
mother,  who  had  recently  visited  him  in  Feldkirch,  had  wept 
bitterly  about  it.  I  must  also  inform  you  that  he  has  recently 
taken  unto  himself  a  wife — a  fact  of  which  our  good  Jacob 
(that  is  his  name,   is  it  not  ?)  also  knew  nothing. 

"  I    could    still,    dear    Herr    Steinle,    write    much    to    you 


90  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

about  Tyrol  and  Italy  (especially  about  Verona),  for  I  know 
no  one  with  whom  I  so  gladly  share  my  artistic  sensations 
as  with  you,  but  lack  of  time  obliges  me  to  close  quickly 
for  the  present ;  I  will  only  add  that  after  I  had  been  two 
days  in  Verona  the  worthy  Rico  arrived,  and  we  are  now 
having  a  feast  of  art  in  Venice  together. 

•'  Should  you  be  still  at  the  Stift  when  you  receive  these 
lines,  I  beg  you  to  kiss  the  Frau  Rath's  hand  for  me,  and 
to  tell  her  that  I  remember  vividly  the  day  I  spent  in  her 
house.  Remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife — I  con- 
gratulate her  upon  her  deliverance  from  the  Cronberg  mar- 
tyrdom ;  kiss  the  little  children  for  me,  and  remember  me 
to  the  elder  ones ;  remember  me  also  to  Frau  Schoff  &  Co. 
and  to  all  my  other  good  friends  ;  this  is  perhaps  rather  a 
large  request,  but  whom  could  I  omit  ?  I  rely  upon  your 
kindness.  I  close  with  a  plea  for  forbearance  towards  my 
incorrigible  writing  and  my  lame,  headlong  style. —  Heartfelt 
o-reetings  from  your  devoted  and  grateful  pupil, 

"  Fred  Leighton. 

<</>,  5. —Should  you  have  anything  to  say  to  me,  or  any 
commission  to  give  me,  the  address,  Poste  Restante,  Florence, 
will  find  me  till  the  end  of  September. 

"  Gamba  wishes  to  be  cordially  remembered  to  you,  and 
promises  himself  to  be  under  your  wing  again  in  eighteen 
months. 

"  In  my  next  letter  I  will  tell  you  about  Italy." 


CHAPTER     II 

ROME 

1852-1855 

The  first  group  of  letters  from  Leighton  to  his  family  from 
Rome  tells  of  his  instalment,  his  projects,  his  disappoint- 
ments, his  indifferent  health,  and  his  eye-troubles.  But  more 
important  are  the  views  he  expresses  on  his  "  ai'tistic  im- 
pressions," and  the  ideas  which  force  themselves  on  his  mind, 
resulting  from  these  impressions  ;  the  increased  anxiety  with 
which  he  regards  the  task  he  has  set  before  him  ;  the 
"paralysing  diffidence"  which  he  feels  with  regard  to  "com- 
posing." In  the  letter  he  wrote  on  January  5,  1853,  he 
enters  more^  intimately  into  his  own  feelings  in  addressing  his 
father  than  in  any  previous  letter  I  have  seen.  This  letter 
is  in  answer  to  one  from  his  father,  which  Leighton  de- 
scribes in  writing  to  his  mother^  as  "the  longest  I  ever  got 
from  him,  at  all  events  it  was  the  first  in  which  he  said  any- 
thing beyond  what  was  necessary  to  business  ;  it  gave  me 
sincere  pleasure.  I  was  touched ;  it  seemed  to  me  that 
distance  had  brought  me  nearer  to  him."  Leighton  was 
evidently  eager  to  respond  to  any  advance  from  his  father 
towards  possible  intimacy  on  the  ground  of  his  art-interests. 
In  "Pebbles"  he  writes  that  he  opens  the  "introductory 
chapter  of  the  second  volume "  of  his  life,  "  a  volume  on 
the  title-page  of  which  is  written  '  artist ' "  ;  in  these  first 
letters  from  Rome  he  begins  the  second  volume  itself.  The 
letter  to  his  younger  sister,  on  her  "coming  out,"  contains 
at  its  close  memorable  advice  on  the  subject  of  the  de- 
velopment  of   her   musical    taste. ^      "You  must  descend    into 

'  See  page  83.  ^  Page  97. 

91 


92  THE   LIFE    OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

yourself,  and  draw  at  the  fountain  of  your  own  natural  taste, 
but  mind  you  go  very  deep,  that  you  may  really  get  at 
your  genuine,  natural  taste,  and  I  think  you  won't  go  far 
wronor.  He  who  knows  how  to  hear  the  voice  of  nature  has 
found  the  safest  guide,  and  he  only  is  a  good  master  who 
opens  the  mind  of  his  pupil  to  that  voice."  At  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  Leighton  had  realised,  and  was  himself  pursuing, 
the  only  right  course  in  studying  any  art.  By  "invariably 
drawing  deeply  from  the  fountain  in  his  own  nature,  he  ever 
remained  true  and  sincere  as  an  artist.  It  is  evident  that, 
if  there  is  no  fountain  to  draw  from  in  a  nature,  any  study 
of  art  becomes  useless,  and  Leighton,  when  consulted  in 
later  years,  never  encouraged  false  hopes  in  those  who  pos- 
sessed no  natural  endowments.  When  he  wrote,^  "  being  very 
receptive  and  prone  to  admire,  I  have  learnt,  and  still  do, 
from  innumerable  artists,  big  and  small ;  Steinle's  is,  how- 
ever, the  indelible  seal,"  he  referred  to  the  fact  that  in 
Steinle  he  had  fortunately  found  the  master  who  opened  his 
mind  to  the  voice  of  his  own  nature.  Leighton  felt  a  great 
necessity  to  sift  the  various  influences  which  played  upon  his 
receptive  nature,  on  account  of  his  ready  sympathy  with 
all  that  was  admirable.  He  had  constantly  to  seek  for  that 
inner  light,  that  "genuine,  natural  taste,"  which  his  revered 
master  had  led  him  to  search  for  and  find,  and  to  act  from 
the  dictates  of  that  light,  and  from  no  other. 

The  commencement  of  the  first  letter  from  Rome  to  his 
mother  is  missing  ;  the  date  of  the  post-mark  is  November 
25,   1852,   Rome. 

"...  unnoticed,  and  which  now  requires  to  be  woven 
in  with  the  rest.  I  mean,  of  course,  my  more  directly  and 
practically  artistic  impressions,  and  their  results.  I  take  them 
up    '  ab    ovo.'       To  an   artist    an   occasional   change  of   scene 

^  Page  26,  "  Introduction." 


ROME  93 

is  of  the  greatest  advantage,  if  not  importance ;  for,  gene- 
rally speaking,  when  he  has  stayed  long  in  one  place,  sur- 
rounded day  after  day  by  the  same  objects,  his  eye  becomes, 
by  the  deadening  effect  of  constant  habit,  indifferent  to  what 
he  sees  around  him,  and  often  even  inaccessible  to  the 
impressions  which  a  newcomer  might  receive  from  the  same 
natural  beauties ;  most  things  that  please  the  eye  or  the 
imagination,  do  so  (in  my  case,  at  least)  by  some  peculiar 
association  ;  indeed  I  should  imagine  it  must  be  so  with 
all  things,  for  even  when  one  cannot  (as  one  often  can) 
define  precisely  the  association  which  creates  the  echo  within 
of  the  impressions  received,  it  seems  to  me  that  one  is 
instinctively  aware  of  a  kind  of  indefinable  innate  relation- 
ship to  the  beauties  manifested  in  nature,  to  which,  by-the- 
bye,  I  think,  all  other  associations  might  ultimately  be  traced 
through  different  degrees  of  consanguinity.  It  is  in  being 
unexpectedly  reminded  (however  indirectly  or  unwittingly) 
of  this  affinity,  that  lies  all  the  pleasure  that  we  experience 
by  the  means  of  sight ;  indeed,  it  strikes  me,  although  I 
am  too  ignorant  to  explain  why,  that  the  '  feu  sacre '  of  the 
artist  is  a  kind  of  inward,  spontaneous,  ever  active,  instinc- 
tive impulse,  blind  and  involuntary,  to  manifest  and  put 
forth  this  his  pedigree — as  it  were  a  yearning  of  son  to 
father,  an  attraction  of  a  part  to  the  whole,  which  is,  as  it 
were,  the  living  motive  and  condition  of  his  existence,  and 
which  sometimes  infuses  in  his  works  '  un  non  so  che '  that 
is  felt  by  others,  but  for  which  he  would  be  at  a  loss  to 
account,  and  of  which  he  is  perhaps  barely  aware  ;  it  is  a 
manifestation  of  a  truth  which  is  felt  to  be  fit,  and  called 
beaiitiful.  These  reflections,  which  have  often  involuntarily 
forced  themselves  on  me,  suddenly  remind  me  of  an  expres- 
sion I  once  heard  Papa  quote  from  some  German  philo- 
sopher, I  think  Hegel :  '  Der  Mensch  ist  das  Werkzeug  der 
Natur.'     Good   gracious,   where   am    I    running  to  ?    and   how 


94  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

far  out  of  my  depth  !  and  yet  one  feels  the  want  to  empty 
one's  head  a  little  now  and  then  ;  latterly,  especially,  these 
ideas  have  been  stirred  up  in  me  by  the  perusal  of  frag- 
ments on  the  theory,  philosophy,  of  Art,  &c.,  by  Eastlake, 
which  gave  rise  in  me  to  some  painful  feelings.  At  the 
first  onset  I  was  amazed  and  bewildered  at  the  quantity 
and  great  versatility  of  Eastlake's  acquirements,  a  man 
who  has  yet  found  time  to  cultivate  his  art  with  success, 
I  was  filled  with  regret  and  mortification  when  I  looked  at 
myself  and  considered  how  little  I  know,  and  how  little, 
comparatively,  my  health  and  eyes  will  allow  me  to  add  to 
my  meagre  store.  As  I  got  further  into  the  subject,  my 
feelings  altered  ;  it  seemed  to  me  to  grow  more  and  more 
vast  and  comprehensive,  but  not  more  intricate,  for  it 
appeared  by  degrees  to  embrace  and  involve  in  itself  (and 
be  involved  in)  all  human  knowledge,  so  that  I  felt  that 
there  must  be  only  one  key  to  all  mystery,  the  /2^«-posses- 
sion  of  which  key  is  the  characteristic,  the  condition  des 
Menschseins.  Then  it  struck  me  as  utterly  absurd  for 
anybody  to  pretend  to  know  anything  about  anything  ;  but 
it  also  struck  me  that  it  is  not  given  to  man  to  be  a 
neutral  spectator,  that  he  must  advance  or  recede ;  and 
that  beautiful  saying  of  Lessing's,  which  Papa  read  to  us, 
occurred  to  my  mind:  '  Wenn  der  Allmachtige '  (I  quote 
from  memory,  and  therefore  probably  not  quite  correctly) 
'  vor  mich  hin  trate,  in  der  Rechten  die  vollkommene 
Erkenntnis,  in  der  Linken  ein  ewiges  Streben  nach  Wahr- 
heit,  ich  wiirfe  mich  fiehend  in  seine  Linke  und  sagte : 
Vater,  gieb !  die  reine  Wahrheit  ist  doch  nur  Dir  allein ! '  ^ 
I  hardly  meant  to  say  all  this,  especially  as  it  must  seem 
horridly    weak    to    a    philosopher    of    Papa's    calibre,    but     I 

1  "  If  the  Almighty  were  to  come  before  me,  with  absolute  knowledge  in  his  right 
hand,  and  perpetual  striving  after  truth  in  his  left,  I  would  fling  myself  to  his  left, 
praying  :  Father,  give  I  pure  truth  is  thine  alone." 


ROME  95 

really  could  not  help  it ;  I  wish  such  thoughts  would  never 
come  into  my  head,  for  I  am  painfully  aware  that  I  have 
not  the  grasp  of  mind  to  investigate  any  abstract  subject 
deeply,  and  I  wish  that  I  had  a  mind,  simple  and  uncon- 
scious, even  as  a  child.  I  hurry  back  to  the  point  with 
my  tail  between  my  legs ;  I  was  saying,  was  not  I  ?  that 
habit  deadens  us  (read  me)  to  the  suggestive  qualities  of 
nature,  and  that  change  of  scene  is  sometimes  required  to 
make  us  again  azvare  of  nature  ;  after  such  change  she  speaks 
a  more  eloquent  language  than  ever  ;  I  have  heard  her  voice, 
ever  since  I  left  Frankfurt,  ring  more  powerfully  than  ever 
before,  and  it  has  been  the  key  to  all  that  I  have  done,  and 
to  all  that  I  have  omitted.  But  there  are  some  cases  in  which 
this  numbing  effect  of  habit  has  more  lasting,  almost  irre- 
vocable consequences ;  when  one  has  been  for  a  long  space 
of  time  titterly  familiarised  with  an  object  (a  work  of  art  in 
particular)  of  which  one  did  not,  when  the  acquaintance  or 
liaison  was  contracted,  appreciate  all  the  beauties,  though  in 
process  of  time  the  under  standing  may  become  fully  aware  of 
these  qualities,  the  heart  of  the  mind — if  I  may  use  such  an 
expression — can  never  feel  that  ingenuous  fulness  of  admira- 
tion which  would  penetrate  a  sensitive  and  cultivated  spec- 
tator on  seeing  it  for  the  first  ti^ne.  This  I  have  felt  more 
particularly  in  the  case  of  the  '  Transfiguration '  here  in  the 
Vatican  ;  I  am  so  utterly  familiar  with  it  from  a  child,  when 
I  could  in  no  way  understand  it,  that  I  find  it  impossible  to 
judge  of  it  objectively;  I  see  colossal  merit  in  it,  and  yet, 
when  I  have  looked  at  it  for  a  few  minutes,  I  turn  away  and 
walk  on ;  I  am  deadened  to  it.  Thank  God,  it  is  not  so 
with  his  (Raphael's)  divine  frescoes,  which  are  so  maimed 
and  profaned  in  the  engravings  that  the  originals  were  7iew 
to  me.  But  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  paper,  and  as  you  do 
not  wish  me  to  cross,  I  must  this  time  close  by  just  telling 
you  what  my   disappointments   have   been,   that  you   may  not 


96  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 

form    a    false    idea    of   them.      First,    I    expected    to    find    an 
atmosphere   of   high    art,    and   every   possible    '  gunstige    Anre- 
gung '    for    its    cultivation  ;    in    this     I    have    been    completely 
disappointed ;    of  the    numberless    artists    here,    scarcely    any 
can  call  themselves  historical  painters,  and  Gamba  and  I,  who 
hoped    for    emulation,    are    thrown    completely    on    ourselves ; 
Overbeck  is   the   only   remains   of  that  much  to  be  regretted 
period    when    he   and    Cornelius    and    Veit   and  -Steinle    and 
others    were   labouring   together    in    friendly    strife  ;    he    will, 
however,  never  be  to  us  what  Steinle  was.     The  next  greatest 
sore  point  was  the  difficulty  of  getting  a  studio.     When   we 
arrived   in    Rome   the   first   thing   we   heard  was   that   all    the 
ateliers  were    taken ;    and    it    was    only   after   some   days   de- 
spondent search  that  I  got  a  little  bit  of  one  most  skimpingly 
furnished,  that   I  should  have  sneered  at  when   I   first  arrived. 
I  have  no  sScrdtaire  ;  I   am  obliged  to  lock  up  my  papers  with 
my  shirts  ;    I   have  been  obliged  to   buy  a  lamp,   for  the   one 
they  gave  me  tried  my  eyes  ;  and  if  I  want  any  article  of  fur- 
niture I  must  buy  it,  because   I   understand  that  at  the  end  of 
the   year  hiring  costs  as   much   here  as  buying.       My  atelier 
for  next  winter    I   shall  take  in  the  spring,  as  a  good   many 
become    vacant  at   that   time.       Rome   is    twice,   nearly   three 
times,    dearer    than    Florence    in    some    respects  ;     I    am    in 
despair ;    Gamba,   who   has  just   half  what    I    have,   absolutely 
starves    himself    in    his    food,   and    can    hardly   keep    himself 
cleanly  dressed  ;  yet  he  has  fewer  expenses  than   I,  who  have 
calls    to    make    now    and    then,    and   must    dress    accordingly. 
Cakes,  too,  who  had  sent  me  a  charming  letter  to  Florence, 
saying  that  he  delighted  in  the  idea  of  coming  to  spend  the 
winter  with  me  in   Rome,  was  suddenly  prevented  ;    this  was 
a  bitter  disappointment ;    I   had  expected  a  great  deal  of  im- 
provement from  his  conversation.      I   am  in  the  bleak  position 
of  one  who   stands    in    immediate    contact  with   no  cultivated 
and  superior  mind.     The   Laings  have  not  come  yet ;   I  hope 


ROME  5y 

to  goodness  they  won't  disappoint  me  also.  —  I   remain,  dearest 
Mamma,  your  dutiful  and  affectionate  son, 

"  Fred  Leighton." 
{La  state  a  zin  prochain  imm^ro.) 

"1852. 
"Dearest  Gussy, — As  a  gallant  brother,  I  can't  well  do 
less  than  answer  separately  your  postscript  to  Mamma's  letter. 
I  shall  make  a  point,  if  I  meet  with  it,  of  reading  Andersen's 
'  Dichterleben ' ;  your  recommendation  is  sufficient  to  pre- 
dispose me  favourably.  I  perfectly  understand  what  you  say 
about  St.  Paul's,  and  quite  agree  with  you  on  that  subject. 
What  suits  a  salmon-coloured  ribbon  ?  By  George,  that's  a 
weighty  question,  and  requires  mature  reflection  ;  it  would 
look  best  on  a  white  dress  with  blue  flowers  or  spots  ;  a  sea- 
green  would  not  look  bad,  and  on  black  silk  it  would  be 
distingud ;  a  bluish  violet  would  not  be  bad  either.  I  am 
sincerely  sorry  that  I  am  not  able  to  '  assister '  at  your 
triumphal  entry  into  your  eighteenth  year  ;  I  am  afraid  the 
spell  is  beginning  to  fall  by  degrees  from  the  greatest  of 
days.  If  my  directions  have  been  attended  to,  I  was  present 
by  proxy  on  the  memorable  occasion.  Do  you  fully  appre- 
ciate the  immense  importance  of  the  epoch  .-*  Do  you  suffi- 
ciently feel  that  you  are  on  the  brink  of  being  OUT?  You 
are  very  much  mistaken  in  supposing  that  I  hear  much  good 
music  here ;  there  is  little  or  none  to  hear ;  the  theatres, 
at  least,  are  all  bad.  I  sincerely  hope  that  you  cultivate 
assiduously  the  talent  with  which  you  are  blessed  ;  especially 
the  vocal  part  I  am  very  anxious  about ;  of  course  you  will 
take  lessons  in  Bath.  I  sympathise  very  much  with  you  on 
the  want  of  Rosenhain's  guiding  influence ;  I  fully  appreciate 
your  difficulty  ;  you  must  descend  into  yourself,  and  draw  at 
the  fountain  of  your  own  natural  taste,  but  mind  you  go  very 
deep,  that  you  may  really  get  at  your  genuine,  natural  taste, 

VOL.   I.  G 


98  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

and  I  think  you  won't  go  far  wrong.  He  who  knows  how 
to  hear  the  voice  of  nature  has  found  the  safest  guide,  and 
he  only  is  a  good  master  who  opens  the  mind  of  his  pupil 
to  that  voice. — Believe  me,  with  many  kisses,  your  very 
affectionate  brother,  Fred. 


"If  Gussy  did  want  to  be  a  charitable  Christian,  she  would 
copy  in  her  pretty  handwriting  five  lines  a  day  of  my  horrid 
scrawl,  for  I  am  ashamed  that  my  Pebbles  should  remain  in 
such  a  state," 

"Bath,  Sunday,  November  29,  1852. 

"  My  beloved  Child, — I  need  not  tell  you  how  close  an 
account  I  keep  of  the  day  of  the  month,  nor  how  my  heart 
beats  as  the  foreign  post  hour  approaches,  because  you  know 
how  tenderly  I  love  you,  and  what  it  cost  me  to  part  from 
you,  and  consequently  how  anxiously  I  look  for  the  con- 
solation for  your  absence  which  your  letters  afford  me,  and 
I  had  hoped  you  would  supply  this  balm  liberally.  Of  course 
while  you  were  actually  travelling  I  made  every  allowance 
for  weariness,  &c.  &c.,  but  if  you  have  carried  out  your 
intentions,  you  must  have  been  in  Rome  quite  ten  days,  and 
though  I  said  in  my  last  I  hoped  for  the  future  you  would 
leave  only  three  weeks  between  each  of  your  letters  home, 
it  is  now  more  than  a  calendar  month  since  I  had  last  the 
great  happiness  of  seeing  your  handwriting.  I  would  not, 
my  love,  be  unreasonable,  but  you  must  remember  that,  in 
addition  to  the  natural  desire  to  hear  how  you  manage  for 
yourself,  my  maternal  anxieties  have  been  awakened  by  the 
indisposition  you  spoke  of  as  not  serious,  it  is  true,  but  which 
has  started  up  before  me,  explaining  your  delay  in  writing, 
and  which,  in  spite  of  reason's  suggestion  that  a  slight  illness 
would  not  hinder  your  work,  whilst  Gamba  would  prevent 
the  addition  of  suspense  to  the  trouble  a  serious  attack  would 


COSTUMI  DI  PROCIDA.     Rome,  1853 


£e8i  ,3rnoH     .AQIDO^*!  IQ  IMUT80D 


ROME  99 

cause  us,  has  brought  the  evil  of  separation  very  bitterly 
before  me.  The  goodness  of  your  heart,  my  child,  will  teach 
you  how  you  can  soften  this  to  me  ;  it  is  one  of  the  few 
occasions  remaining  to  you  to  exercise  self-denial,  as  you 
live  alone  and  have  no  one  to  please  but  yourself.  I  now 
and  then  wonder  a  little  anxiously  whether  you  ever  think 
of  my  exhortations,  so  much  have  I  wished  that  you  should 
be  in  the  retirement  of  your  house  as  gentlemanly  as  you 
are  in  company.  But  then  I  recollect  sentences  in  your 
letter,  proving  such  right  views  in  important  matters,  such 
a  clear  understanding  of  your  responsibilities,  that  I  resolve 
to  believe  that  you  will  strive  to  do  right  in  small  matters 
as  well  as  in  great  ones  ;  indeed,  my  child,  1  have  remarked 
with  deep  satisfaction  your  appreciation  of  the  blessings  that 
are  allotted  to  you,  and  indeed  you  do  right  to  enjoy  them 
with  all  humility,  for  I  cannot  flatter  you  in  opposition  to 
the  dictates  of  my  conscience  that  you  are  so  well  deserving 
of  happiness  as  your  poor  sister.  She  is  deserving  of  the 
highest  respect  of  all,  bearing  all  her  trials  with  admirable 
patience.  The  persevering  rain,  which  has  caused  a  great 
deal  of  illness  in  Bath,  has  had  a  very  bad  effect  on  her, 
throwing  her  back  just  as  she  was  beginning  to  mend,  so 
that  she  has  a  great  deal  of  rough  ground  to  go  over  again. 
We  revel  in  literary  abundance,  even  German  and  French 
books  are  in  the  circulating  libraries,  and  /  often  wish  the 
days  longer  to  read  and  to  work.  Gussy  says  she  hopes 
you  will  not  think  her  ill-natured  if  she  declines  copying 
your  letters,  for,  indeed,  were  she  willing  to  undertake  this  diffi- 
cult task,  I  should  forbid  it,  as  her  eyes,  always  delicate,  are 
unusually  weak  ;  whether  this  comes  from  too  long  confine- 
ment to  the  house,  or  from  crying,  I  cannot  say  ;  the  latter 
is  produced  by  Heiniweh  !  what  do  you  think  of  this  for  an 
English  girl  ?  Thank  God,  she  employs  the  best  remedy 
against    regretful    feelings,   as   she    is   occupied   from  morning 


loo  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

till  night.  Are  you  equally  industrious  ?  I  read  the  other 
day  the  following  assertion  by  Southey,  which  I  copy  for 
you,  in  case  you  should  still  have  the  habit,  so  common 
amongst  young  people,  of  wasting  during  the  day  occasional 
quarter-hours  or  ten  minutes,  because,  they  ask,  only  such  a 
few  minutes,  how  often  have  I  heard  that  excuse.  This  is 
the  portion  :  '  Ten  minutes'  daily  study,  for  seven  years,  will 
give  the  student  sufficient  knowledge  of  seven  languages  to 
read  them  with  ease,  and  even  to  travel  without  an  inter- 
preter in  the  respective  countries.'  Is  not  this  an  encourage- 
ment to  industry }  We  imagine  you  by  this  time  settled  in 
your  lodging  and  beginning  to  feel  at  home.  God  grant 
that  you  may  have  your  health  there  and  meet  with  kind 
friends ;  we  are  curious  to  know  what  your  letters  will  do 
for  you.  In  the  meantime  you  will,  I  doubt  not,  have  met 
some  old  acquaintances — the  Henry  Walpoles,  the  Laings, 
Mr.  Petre,  ^the  Isembourgs,  and  Princess  Hohenlohe  ;  to  what 
amount  the  latter  will  condescend,  I  know  not,  but  remember, 
I  entreat  you,  my  advice.  The  two  former  families  you  will 
most  likely  have  first  met  at  church  ;  let  me  hope  at  least 
that  you  will  not  abandon  the  habit  ;  it  may  at  last  bring 
a  blessing  upon  you.  The  intentions  of  your  Frankfurt 
acquaintances  we  learnt  in  a  letter  from  Mme.  Beving ;  she 
had  heard  from  M.  Fenzi  that  he  had  given  you  a  general 
invitation  to  his  villa,  and  that  you  had  dined  with  him,  or 
been  asked  to  do  so  ;  I  do  not  know  whether  he  made  any 
comment  on  you.  Did  your  organ  oi veneration  do  its  duty.'* 
Forgive  my  hints,  dear  son  ;  all  your  good  qualities  are 
pictured  in  lively  colours  before  my  eye,  but  I  do  not  even 
try  to  forget  your  faults,  lest  I  should  neglect  my  duty  to 
you  ;  with  the  best  resolutions  we  all  occasionally  require  a 
fillip  to  our  conscience.  Next  Friday  is  your  birthday.  It 
will  be  the  first  on  which  you  have  not  received  your  parents' 
blessing    in    person.     We    shall    not    forget    you,    my   darling. 


ROME  loi 

God  bless  you,  my  own  dear  Freddy  ;  in  tliis  prayer  your 
father  joins  most  fervently  ;  think  often  of  the  advice  and 
love  of  your  devoted  mother,  A.  Leighton." 

I  Brock  Street,  Bath, 
December  13,  1852. 

Dear  Frederic, — I  need  not  say  that  we  had  all  of  us  great 
pleasure  in  receiving  your  letter  from  Rome,  though  not  before 
your  dear  mother  had  suffered  great  anxiety  from  the  delay — the 
greater,  because  your  former  letter  did  not  give  a  very  encouraging 
account  of  your  health.  It  gave  us  also  great  pain  to  hear  of 
the  vexatious  disappointments  which  have  attended  your  first 
entrance  into  the  Eternal  City,  but  this  was,  perhaps,  to  be  ex- 
pected, as  the  sanguine  expectations  of  youth  are  seldom  realised, 
and  we  may  hope  that  by  this  time  you  will  have  found  in  other 
advantages  and  opportunities  for  improvement  a  sufficient  com- 
pensation for  the  loss  of  those  you  had  expected.  What  you  say 
about  the  weakness  of  your  eyesight  is  far  more  serious,  and, 
indeed,  would  have  occasioned  us  alarm  if  we  did  not  hope  and 
believe  that  you  meant  no  more  than  we  already  knew  at 
Frankfort,  that  your  eyes  were  weak,  and  not  that  they  had 
continued  to  grow  weaker.  But  when  I  consider  that  your  only 
means  of  acquiring  an  honourable  independence  and  gratifying 
your  laudable  ambition  depends  upon  your  eyesight,  I  surely  need 
no  arguments  to  urge  you  in  the  strongest  manner  to  use  all 
those  precautions  for  its  preservation  which  your  own  good  sense 
must  suggest — to  throw  aside  your  brush  or  pencil  the  first 
moment  that  your  eyes  begin  to  smart  or  water,  not  to  draw  on 
white  paper  or  by  candlelight  (or  lamp  or  any  artificial  light),  nor 
read  except  large  print,  nor  small  print  even  by  daylight,  except 
for  a  few  minutes  occasionally  in  a  book  of  reference,  and  to 
acquire  as  much  knowledge  as  you  can,  independently  of  books, 
by  conversation  with  well-informed  men,  if  you  are  so  fortunate 
as  to  meet  with  them  ;  when  you  cannot  paint,  talk,  or  observe, 
exercise  your  memory,  it  will  store  and  cultivate  your  mind  more 
and  try  your  eyes  less  than  reading,  which  in  your  case  cannot 
be  systematically  pursued.  You  may  perhaps  meet  some  well- 
informed    young    men    amongst    the    German    artists.      Above   all. 


I02  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

draw  your  compositions  as  large  as  possible  (or  rather  as  necessary 
for  your  eyes)  and  not  such  as  your  architectural  drawings,  "  Four 
Seasons,"  &c.,  which  contain  so  many  objects  minutely  drawn. 
I  suppose,  likewise,  that  chalk  and  charcoal  must  be  better  than 
pencil,  and  the  paint-brush  better  than  either.  You  have  no 
reason  to  complain  either  of  want  of  ideas  or  of  power  of 
expressing  them  (at  all  events  with  your  pen),  however  deficient 
you  may  think  yourself  in  a  command  of  language  for  conversa- 
tion ;  but  the  fact  is  that,  considering  the  distance  that  separates 
us,  it  is  of  much  more  importance  to  us  to  know  how  you  are, 
what  you  do,  and  what  you  observe,  than  what  you  think.  Your 
letters  remind  me  of  my  friend,  Dr.  Simpson  of  York,  who, 
when  we  sat  down  for  dinner,  would  enter  into  some  abstract 
discussion,  say,  of  the  nature  and  varieties  of  fish,  or,  a  propos  of 
the  aitch-bone,  on  the  homologies  of  the  skeleton,  while  in  the 
meantime  fish  and  beef  were  growing  cold  and  my  appetite  im- 
patiently vivacious  ;  so  in  your  letters,  while  we  are  burning  with 
impatience  to  know  how  you  are,  what  progress  you  are  making, 
or  at  all  events  what  are  your  opportunities  of  progress  in  the 
art,  you  indulge  us  with  abstract  reflections  on  the  theory  of  art 
in  general.  Your  last  letter,  it  is  true,  begins  and  ends  with 
interesting  matter,  but  with  an  interpolation  of  some  three  pages 
of  disquisition  on  the  nature  of  genius  in  art,  &c.,  &c.,  which, 
however  well  thought  or  expressed,  would  be  more  in  place  in  an 
essay  than  in  your  letter  to  us  who  are  so  much  more  interested 
in  what  immediately  concerns  yourself.  The  consequence  is  that, 
although  with  a  praiseworthy  wish  to  please  us  you  have  tried 
your  eyes  with  a  long  letter,  you  have  omitted  much  we  were 
anxious  to  know — whether,  for  instance,  you  were  conscious  of 
having  made  any  progress,  or  derived  any  advantage  from  the 
many  pictures  both  in  art  and  nature  you  have  had  so  many 
opportunities  of  seeing  ;  whether  you  had  been  making  many, 
and  what  sketches  or  copies,  for  we  are  quite  convinced  that 
you  have  not  been  losing  your  time  ;  whether  you  have  been 
comparing  what  you  can  do  with  what  other  artists  of  about 
your  age  and  standing  in  Italy  can  do,  and  whether  the  result 
is  satisfactory  ;  whether  there  are  any  among  them  from  whom 
you   can   take   any   useful   hints ;    whether   Overbeck   or   any   other 


ROME  103 

competent  artist  is  willing  to  assist  you  ;  whether,  above  all,  you 
saw  Power  at  Florence,  and  what  he  thought  of  your  composi- 
tions ;  whether  you  find  in  Rome  the  material  advantages  you 
expected  in  the  way  of  models,  &c.,  and  whether  you  will  think 
it  advisable  to  draw  from  the  antique — the  Apollo,  Torso,  &c.  ; 
in  short,  I  cannot  too  strongly  impress  upon  you  that  one  fact 
is  of  more  value  to  us  than  a  volume  of  reflections.  Of  course, 
I  would  not  have  you  infer  that  the  progress  of  your  mind, 
your  thoughts  and  feelings,  are  by  any  means  a  matter  of  indif- 
ference to  us,  but  after  all  they  can  be  only  imperfectly  shown 
in  occasional  letters,  and  must  necessarily  exclude  information  of 
a  more  positive  and,  for  the  present,  of  a  more  important  nature. 
Let  me  caution  you,  too,  against  reading  any  of  the  modern 
German  works  on  aesthetics  ;  they  can  be  only  imperfectly  under- 
stood without  a  knowledge  of  the  philosophies,  of  which  they 
form  a  part,  and  any  advantage  you  may  derive  from  them  will 
not  be  at  all  commensurate  to  the  time  and  trouble,  especially 
for  you  who  have  so  much  positive  knowledge  to  acquire.  If, 
however,  any  of  your  German  friends  can  convey  to  you  in 
conversation  any  clear  ideas  on  the  subject  (and  if  they  have 
them  themselves  there  is  no  reason  why  they  should  not),  well 
and  good,  but  do  not  let  them  impose  upon  you,  as  they  so 
often  do  upon  themselves,  with  words  either  without  any  well- 
defined  meaning,  or  one  different  from,  or  even  the  direct  con- 
trary, of  the  usual  one.  According  to  Hegel,  for  instance,  'das 
Schone,  ist  das  scheinen '  (Schone  from  scheinen)  '  der  Idee  durch 
ein  sinnliches  Medium.'  Now  every  artist  knows  without  Hegel 
that  his  idea,  or,  if  he  prefers  to  think  so,  nature's  idea  within 
and  through  him,  appears  or  manifests  itself  in  the  sensuous 
material,  in  colours  if  he  be  a  painter,  or  stone  if  he  be  a 
sculptor,  but  this  would  be  worse  that  trite,  it  would  be  intelligible 
to  a  plain  understanding.  Idee  has  a  far  deeper  meaning.  If 
you  hear  a  German  flourishing  away  with  the  magic  word,  ask 
him  what  he  means.  He  will  tell  you,  perhaps,  that  it  is  das 
Absolute  or  der  objective  Geist  as  distinguished  from  the  Begriff 
or  subjectiver  Geist,  or  rather  the  indifference  of  both,  and  that 
is  neither  one  nor  t'other,  but  potentially  either,  or  the  an  sich, 
or  an  und  Jur  sich,  or  rather  the  an,  fur,  fiber   sich  ;   at  last  after 


I04  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

much  hin  und  herreiten  you  get  some  faint  glimmering  of  what  is 
meant  ;  perhaps  what  some  people  call  the  soul  in  nature,  or  in 
still  plainer  English,  nature,  or  the  unknown  cause  of  all  we 
see,  not  an  abstraction  but  a  real  entity,  impersonal,  however, 
and  therefore  not  a  god,  acting  according  to  certain  laws,  uncon- 
sciously in  external  nature  (in  ihrem  Anders'sein)  coming  to 
itself — acting  consciously  in  man,  but  more  reflectively  in  science, 
more  instructively  in  art.  Well,  you  have  caught  the  Idee  at  last 
(perhaps  !)  through  its  many  Proteus-like  changes  and  recognise 
an  old  friend  after  all — scratch  your  head,  and  ask  whether  you 
are  any  wiser  than  before.  '  Das  scheinen  der  Idee  durch  ein 
sinnliches  Material ' — in  the  Madonna  of  Raphael,  for  instance — • 
'  ist  das  Schone.'  Why  then,  says  Punch,  not  equally  so  in  the 
pork-pie  and  the  mustard-pot,  since  the  Idee  manifests  itself 
equally  in  both.  The  German  solves  the  difficulty  by  "  Sie  sind 
ein  practischer  Englander,  und  haben  keinen  speculativen  Geist." 
In  the  meantime,  let  us  hope  that  nature  will  use  you  as  her  tool 
to  carry  out  in  colours  and  canvas  some  of  her  beautiful  ideas, 
and  leave  it  to  the  German  to  find  out  how  the  practical  English- 
man who  has  not  read  Hegel's  "  Esthetics "  has  set  about  it. 
That  you  may  accomplish  this  to  the  utmost  extent  of  your  wishes 
is  the  sincere  wish  of,  dear   Fred,   your  affectionate  father, 

Fredc.  Leighton. 

P.S. — "  Werkzeug  der  Natur  "  is  an  idea  by  no  means  peculiar 
to  Hegel. 

"  Your  birthday — 

•'  Dearest  Mamma,  may  it  be  a  right  happy  one — one 
that  may  serve,  and  be  used,  as  a  pattern  to  cut  out  others 
on.  Judging  by  your  accounts,  there  is  one  among  you 
who  will  contribute  mirth  to  your  enjoyment — one  who  takes 
as  many  shapes  as  Proteus,  and  is  always  the  most  welcome 
of  guests ;  his  name  is  Bettering.  In  this  world  confident 
expectation  is  a  greater  blessing,  almost,  than  fruition.  I 
too,  if  my  directions  have  been  followed  (as  I  confidingly 
hope),  shall  have  appeared  to  you  on  the  great  day  as  good 
as  gold. 


ROME  105 

"How  grieved  I  was,  dearest  Mother,  to  hear  that  I 
had  given  so  much  pain  to  the  kindest  of  hearts!  My 
excuse,  such  as  it  was,  you  got  in  my  last  letter,  which 
reached  probably  the  day  after  you  posted  your  epistle  to 
me ;  I  was  sincerely  sorry ;  I  had  not,  I  must  confess,  any 
idea  of  anxious  suspense  on  your  part,  as  you  were  not  in 
expectation  of  any  partiadar  news  ;  I  shall  in  future  try  to 
be  more  deserving  of  your  solicitude  ;  this  time,  you  see,  I 
am  punctual. 

"  Health  Report.  Taking  all  in  all,  tol.  sat.,  owing,  no 
doubt,  to  the  unusually  magnificent  weather  which  we  have 
had  since  I  arrived  here ;  rheumatism,  average ;  colds,  not 
more  than  usual  ;  eyes  ?  .  .  .  hum  .  .  .  might  be  better ;  I 
suppose  macaroni  'al  burro'  are  not  unwholesome — I  and 
Gamba  and  several  others  eat  it  nearly  every  day. 

"  I  now  turn  to  your  letter.  Little  Gussy  an  authoress ! 
dear  child,  it  gives  one  unfeigned  pleasure  to  hear  of  her 
successful  d^but.  I  have  myself  had  no  opportunity  of 
judging  of  her  talent  for  writing,  but  feel  convinced  that 
with  her  warm  heart,  impressionable  soul,  sterling  under- 
standing, and  quick  powers  of  observation,  whatever  she 
writes  will  please  a  healthy  taste.  She  has  my  very  best 
wishes.  And  yet,  what  slight  cloud  was  that,  I  felt  pass 
over  my  pleasure,  casting  (I  could  not  help  it)  an  undefined 
shadow  on  my  heart  ?  Did  not  I  feel  startled  at  being  so 
palpably  reminded  that  the  child  Gussy  no  longer  exists  ? 
Did  I  not  seem  to  feel,  disagreeably,  that  the  bridge  was 
cut  down  behind  us,  that  the  last  tie  was  broken  that,  in 
Gussy's  person,  still  linked  us  to  childhood,  the  buoyantly 
confiding  age,  the  irresponsible  age }  Did  not  I  become, 
through  her,  painfully  aware  that  when  I  took  leave  of  you, 
you  all  sealed  with  your  kiss  the  first  volume  of  my  life, 
that  I  am  indeed  launched  into  the  second,  that  the  rehearsal 
is  indeed  over  and  the  curtain  drawn  up  ? 


io6  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

"  And  do  I  not  feel,  even  now,  a  hypocrite,  to  know  my 
path,  and  yet  so  often  to  deviate  from  it  ?  Write  often, 
dear  Mother ! 

"  The  hint  you  gave  me  about  husbanding  my  time,  I 
shall  take  to  heart ;  it  is  a  thing  of  which  I  myself  full  well 
feel  the  necessity  and  know  the  unfailing  benefit  ;  but  I 
confess  that  when  I  read  your  quotation  from  '  Bob,'  I  felt 
irresistibly  reminded  of  the  question  once  put  to  sage  and 
wise  courtiers  by  the  facetious  monarch  '  who  never  said  a 
foolish  thing,  and  never  did  a  wise  one,'  viz.  Why  is  a 
tub  of  water  with  a  goose  in  it  lighter  than  one  without  ? 

" '  God  help  thee,  Southey,  and  thy  readers  too  ! '  (Byron). 

"  Your  next  question  is  :  Am  I  comfortably  settled  in 
Rome  ?  Well,  I  am  happy  to  say  that  since  the  first  week 
or  fortnight  my  prospects  have  been  slowly  but  steadily 
brightening,  one  cloud  after  another  has  passed  away,  and 
though  I  do  not  expect  to  see  the  bright  sky  of  fulfilled 
expectations  quite  unveiled,  yet  I  look  forward  to  the 
enjoyment  sooner  or  later  of  contentment.  I  wrote  my  last 
letter  in  a  tone  of  considerable  disheartenment,  which  I 
was  indeed  labouring  under ;  perhaps  it  was  the  triumph  of 
a  selfish  feeling  that  made  me  communicate  my  woes  to 
you  when  it  was  not  in  your  power  to  mend  them  ;  but  yet 
it  is  such  a  relief  to  feel  that  there  are  those  who  are  not 
indifferent  to  our  grievances,  who  rejoice  when  we  rejoice, 
and  weep  when  we  weep ;  and  then,  too,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  perhaps  a  word  from  you  might  throw  a  new  light 
on  my  position  and  give  me  new  reason  to  be  comforted. 
Meanwhile,  altered  circumstances  have  reassured  me  on 
some  points,  and  my  own  reason  has  pacified  me  on  others 
which  I  saw  to  be  irremediable ;  the  prospect  of  emulation 
of  a  peculiar  kind,  such  as  I  found  in  Steinle,  and  generally 
speaking  in  the  German  school  (I  do  not  mean  the  emulation 


ROME  107 

of  industry  which  I  find  amply  in  Gamba,  or  in  the  science 
of  the  art  which  I  have  lately  discovered  amongst  certain 
young  Frenchmen,  but  that  which  affects  the  animating 
spirit  of  the  art,  the  spiritual  taste,  the  tendency  of  one's 
thoughts),  I  have  entirely  renounced  ;  the  visions  that  I  had 
(God  knows  why,  for  I  don't  think  I  ever  expected  to  grasp 
them)  of  a  time  like  that  of  Steinle's  sojourn  in  Rome,  when 
so  many  master-minds  were  united  together  in  friendly  strife, 
all  inspired  by  the  same  spirit,  all,  going  hand  in  hand — have 
all  faded  away,  and  only  linger  in  my  mind  as  a  sweet 
regretted  image,  like  the  gentle  glow  of  twilight  in  the 
western  sky  when  the  cold  moon  is  already  in  the  heavens. 
But  I  have,  on  the  other  hand,  seen  reason  to  believe  that 
this  will  turn  out  for  my  good  ;  that  it  is  proper  that  I 
should,  once  for  all,  and  in  all  things,  accustom  myself  to 
the  idea  that  I  am,  or  should  be,  a  self -depe7ide fit  and  self- 
actuated  being,  accountable  to  myself  for  good  and  for  evil ; 
that  I  must  therefore  learn  to  build  and  rely  on  my  own 
resources,  and  remember  the  most  important  of  truths,  that  if 
the  growth  of  my  art  is  to  be  healthy,  lasting,  fruit-bearing, 
it  must,  though  fostered  from  without,  be  rooted  deeply  in, 
and  receive  its  vital  sap  from  the  soil  of  my  own  mind.  Still, 
I  have  thought  it  good  to  hang  up  in  my  studio  a  work  of 
Cornelius  and  one  or  two  of  Steinle,  to  animate  myself  by 
dwelling  constantly  on  an  idea  of  excellence  (not  ideal,  I 
hate  such  stuff)  irrespective  of  the  specific  mode  in  which 
it  is  manifested ;  and  in  this  I  think  I  have  chosen  the  juste 
milieu — so  far  my  reason.  Yet  I  do  not  deny  that  I  every 
now  and  then  feel  lonofines  and  res^rets  that  make  me  feel 
the  truth  of  those  lovely  words — 

"  '  We  look  before  and  after, 
And  pine  for  what  is  not ; 
Our  sincerest  laughter 

With  some  pain  is  fraught.' 


io8  THE   LIFE    OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

"  Among    the    irremediable    disappointments    on    which    I 
have  to  put  the  best   face,  is  that  of  not   seeing   Cakes   here 
this   winter.       From   a   man   of  warm   feelings,   of  tastes   con- 
genial   to    my    own,  of   a   cultivated   and   liberal   mind,    I    had 
hoped    to    derive    much    pleasure    and    especially    advantage, 
and  thus  to   have   supplied   in   some  measure   the  void  which 
must  arise  (and,  alas !  remain)  in  my  brain  from  want  of  time, 
want  of  robuster  health,  want  of  eyes.       A  friendship,  too,  of 
mutual   seeking  is  so   agreeable  a  thing.       Matters  stand   so : 
when  I  was  in  Florence  I    received  from  him  a  letter  full  of 
a  kind  and   friendly  spirit,  in  which   he   seized  with   eagerness 
at   the  idea  of  spending  a  winter  with  me  in  Rome  ;  he   was 
already   in    Paris,    where    he    was    in .  treaty  with  a  travelling 
servant  in   order  to  continue  his  journey  ;    he  had  written   to 
you  (did   you  get  the   letter  ?)   to   know   where  he   was   most 
likely  to  catch  me  up ;  he  was  anticipating  the  enjoyment  we 
should  find  together  in   Venice,    or   in   Florence,    or  wherever 
we  should  meet ;  this  letter  has  been  waiting  for  me  a  month 
at  the  post.      I  arrive  in   Rome,  and  look  anxiously  about  for 
Cakes,  who,  I   suppose,  must  already  have  arrived  ;  no  Cakes 
— no  news — suspense — despair ;   at  last  a  letter  :  he  has  been 
recalled  from   Paris ;   he    is    obliged,    willy   nilly,    to    stand    for 
his  borough  (Conservative,   Ministerial);  he  is  an   M.P. 

"  Another  disappointment,  hitherto,  is  the  non-arrival  of 
the  Laings ;  I  had  promised  myself  great  enjoyment  in 
Isabel's  society  ;  the  footing  on  which  we  stand  is  such  an 
agreeable  one  :  enough  familiarity  (for  old  friendship's  sake) 
to  make  our  intercourse  easy — a  relaxation  ;  enough  restraint 
to  refine  it  and  make  it  improving;  she  plays,  too.  Music! 
How  I  yearn  for  music,  which  I  never  hear  in  the  land  best 
adapted  to  foster  it  ;  music,  that  humanises  the  soul,  that 
calls  forth  all  that  is  refined  and  elevated  and  glowing  and 
impassioned  in  one's  breast,  and  without  which  the  very  lake 
of   one's   heart   ('il    lago  del    cuore,'   Dante)  stagnates   and   is 


ROME  io9 

congealed.       I    express    myself    extravagantly,   but    my    words 
flow  from   my  heart. 

"  Again,  the  studio,  which  I  at  last  found,  though  snug 
and  cheerful,  very  (let's  give  the  devil  his  due),  is,  in  its 
professional  capacity,  bad  beyond  description  ;  the  light  is 
execrable ;  I  could  not  dream  of  painting  a  picture  in  it 
(thank  God,  I  have  only  taken  it  till  spring),  scarcely  even 
a  portrait,  'which  is  absurd,'  Euclid,  hem.  What  a  list  of 
lucubrations !  for  goodness'  sake,  let  me  look  at  the  gay  side 
of  the  picture.  It  has  been  a  great  comfort  to  me  all  through 
that  all  the  artists  resident  here,  whom  I  have  spoken  to  on 
the  subject,  felt  on  first  arriving  the  same  kind  of  disappoint- 
ment that  I  did,  and  that  all  by  degrees  have  acquired  the 
conviction  that,  after  all,  it's  the  best  place  in  the  world  for 
study.  I  have  myself  begun  to  feel  what  an  incalculable 
advantage  it  is  always  to  have  models  at  your  disposition 
whenever,  and  hoivever,  you  want  them  ;  I  look  forward,  too, 
with  the  ereatest  delioht  to  the  studies  that  I  shall  make 
this  summer  in  the  exquisitely  beautiful  spots  to  which  the 
artists  always  take  refuge  from  the  heat  and  malaria  of 
Rome.  I  long  to  find  myself  again  face  to  face  with  Nature, 
to  follow  it,  to  watch  it,  and  to  copy  it,  closely,  faithfully, 
ingenuously  —  as  Ruskin  suggests,  '  choosing  nothing,  and 
rejecting  nothing.'  I  have  come  to  the  conviction  that  the 
best  way  for  an  historical  painter  to  bring  himself  home  to 
Nature,  in  his  own  branch  of  the  art,  is  strenuously  to  study 
landscape,  in  which  he  has  not  had  the  opportunity,  as  in 
his  own  walk,  of  being  crammed  with  prejudices,  conven- 
tional, flat — academical.  But  I  am  getting  to  the  end  of  my 
paper,  and  I  have  as  yet  said  but  little  to  the  point ;  I  have 
not  yet  answered  Papa's  question  about  my  sketching,  and 
therefore  that  I  may  not  seem  to  be  shirking  the  point,  I 
shall  just  tell  you  that  amongst  the  sketches  that  I  have 
made  (mostly  architectural)   are  some  by  far  the  best  I  ever 


no  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

did}  I  have  also  to  justify  Marryat  about  not  writing;  I  got 
his  letters  the  other  day  with  a  kind  note  to  say  that  he  had 
been  ill ;  that  to  the  Princess  Doria  has  availed  me  nothing, 
as  she  is  in  mourning  for  her  father,  Lord  Shrewsbury  ;  that 
to  the  Prince  Massimo  has  opened  to  me  at  once  two  of  the 
first  and  most  exclusive  houses  in  Rome,  those  of  his  two 
sisters,  the  Princess  Lancelotti  and  the  Duchess  del  Drago. 
Enough  for  to-day.  Good-bye,  dearest  Mother.  Very  best 
love  to  all.      Think  often  of  your  dutiful  and  affectionate  son, 

"  Fred  Leighton. 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  think  of  the  time  I  have  taken  writing 
this  letter  ;  not  from  want  of  ideas,  not  from  any  great  diffi- 
culty in  expressing  them,  but  from  the  great  difficulty  I  have 
in  getting  at  them,  controlling  them,  holding  them  fast. 

" '  A  saucepan  without  a  handle. 
Soup  without  a  spoon.' 

"  Via  di  Porta  PI^XIANA,  N.  8." 

"  Roma,  Via  di  Porta  Pinciana,  N.V. 
{Postmark,  Jan.  5,  1853.) 

"  Dear  Papa, — When  I  received,  the  other  day,  your  kind 
and  most  interesting  letter,  and  felt  the  appropriateness  of 
your  admonitions— felt,  too,  how  foolish  it  is  for  me,  who  am 
ignorance  personified  (in  certain  matters,  at  least)  to  waste 
my  time  in  speculations  on  subjects  beyond  my  grasp,  and 
to  exhaust  your  patience  by  twaddling  them  out  to  you,  whilst 
your  own  penetrating  and  comprehensive  mind  takes,  in  pre- 
ference, a  practical  view  of  the  subject — a  question  suddenly 
presented  itself  to  me  :  Bless  my  soul !  what  will  he  say  to 
the  episde   I   have  just  sent  off?     For,  as  you,  by   this  time, 

1  "The  Well-Head"  (see  List  of  Illustrations),  drawn  during  Leighton's  visit  to 
Venice,  and  described  in  "  Pebbles,"  more  than  justifies  this  opinion,  for  it  may  be 
questioned  whether  any  other  drawing  he  ever  made  of  the  kind  is  as  perfectly 
beautiful. 


ROME 


1 1 1 


know  yourself,  it  is,  though  perhaps  less  groggy  than  the 
last,  still  insufficient  in  point  of  practical  purport ;  a  messed-up 
dish,  not  a  joint.  I  hasten,  if  possible,  to  make  '  amende 
honorable '  by  communicating  to  you  in  language  as  concise 
as  possible  whatever  information  you  either  express  or  hint 
a  desire  to  have. 

"  One  word  only,  a  farewell  one,  on  the  subject  of  my 
ci-devant  digressions ;  no,  three  words  ;  I  must  say  in  my  own 
justification.  ist.  That  when  I  sat  dov/n  to  write,  it  was 
always  with  an  idea  of  telling  all  (or  nearly),  and  all  in 
detail,  too,  from  which  I  was  prevented  by  invariably  getting 
to  the  end  of  my  paper,  my  time,  and  my  eyes  (as  it  would 
try  them  to  cross)  before  I  had  accomplished  my  object ; 
2nd.  That  I  have  been  discursive  with  an  idea  of  enter- 
taining for  a  time  the  suffering  members  of  the  family  ;  3rd. 
That  all  my  abstract  drawl,  though  it  in  some  cases  abutted 
in  tenets  that  I  had  at  different  times  heard  you  let  fall,  was 
altogether  my  own  ;  indeed  it  was,  perhaps,  the  consciousness 
of  the  instinctive  self-suggestedness  of  such  thoughts  that  made 
me  turn  round  on  myself  and  take  an  objective  view  of  ditto. 
A  philosopher  is  very  like  a  dog  trying  to  catch  his  own  tail. 

"  Now  to  business.  You  speak  of  my  eyes ;  I  cannot 
conceal  from  you  that  they  are  worse  than  they  were  at 
Frankfurt,  but  I  do  not  know  whether  I  can  say  that  they 
are  getting  gradually  worse  ;  everybody  takes  some  time  in 
getting  acclimatise  to  Rome ;  my  sufferings  may  perhaps  be 
ascribed  to  that.  I  intend  for  some  months  to  give  up  the 
nude  in  the  evening.  Your  advice  about  gathering  informa- 
tion from  the  conversation  of  men  of  cultivated  mind  I  would 
most  gladly  follow,  but,  alas,  I  only  know  two  really  well- 
informed  people  here,  and  one  is  an  old  man  I  hardly  ever 
see.  There  is  no  fear  of  my  drawing  my  compositions  too 
small,  for  (I  shall  tell  you  why  presently)  I  am  drawing  none 
at  all,  and  probably  shall  draw  none  for  a  considerable  time  ; 


112  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

but  close  and  minute  study  of  Nature  in  its  details  is,  as  I 
now  see  more  plainly  than  ever,  of  paramount  importance. 
I  come  to  another  point  which  it  is  difficult  to  touch  with 
conciseness :  have  I  made  any  progress  ?  Perhaps  I  am 
not  entitled  to  answer  positively  in  the  affirmative  till  I 
shall  have  painted  some  portrait  or  picture  better  than 
anything  I  have  yet  produced  ;  this  I  have  not  yet  had  an 
opportunity  of  doing- ;  but  if,  from  superlative  confidence, 
having  fallen  to  a  more  beseeming  diffidence,  if  having 
improved  and  chastened  my  taste,  if  having  become  more 
anxiously  aware  of  the  extent  of  my  task  and  more  deeply 
humbled  by  those  who  have  fulfilled  it,  may  be  called  progress, 
then  I  can  answer :  Yes,  I  have  made  a  step. 

"  I  was  deeply  impressed  with  the  glorious  works  of  art 
I  saw  in  Venice  and  Florence,  and  was  particularly  struck 
with  the  exquisitely  elaborate  finish  of  most  of  the  leading 
works  by  whatever  master  ;  the  highest  possible  finish  com- 
bined with  the  greatest  possible  breadth  and  grandeur  of 
disposition  in  the  principal  masses  ;  art  with  the  old  masters 
was  full  of  love,  refined,  utterly  sterling.  I  had  got  during 
my  journey  through  the  Tyrol  into  a  frame  of  mind  that 
rendered  me  particularly  accessible  to  such  impressions  ;  I  had 
been  dwelling  with  unwearied  admiration  on  the  exquisite 
grace  and  beauty  of  the  details,  as  it  were,  of  Nature ; 
every  little  flower  of  the  field  had  become  to  me  a  new 
source  of  delight ;  the  very  blades  of  grass  appeared  to  me 
in  a  new  light.  You  will  easily  understand  that,  under  the 
influence  of  such  feelings,  I  felt  the  greatest  possible  reluctance 
to  sketch  in  the  hasty  manner  in  which  one  does  when  travel- 
ling ;  I  shunned  the  idea  of  approaching  Nature  in  a  manner 
which  seemed  to  me  disrespectful,  and  the  consequence  was 
that  until  I  got  to  Verona  I  did  not  touch  a  pencil.  In 
Venice  and  Florence,  however,  I  made  several  drawings, 
some    of  which    are    most    highly  finished,   and    afforded    me, 


STUDY  OF  HEAD  FOR  **CIMABUE*S   MADONNA,"     1853 

Erroneously  supposed  to  be  the  Portrait  of  Lord  Leighton 

Leighton  House  Collection 


£S8i 


"!   ?*HU9A'  .^lO"^  0 


;osaov:}:: 


iiOU'j:^ixu-~>- 


ROME  1 1 3 

whilst  I  was  occupied  on  them,  that  most  desirable  kind  of 
contentment,  the  consciousness  of  endeavour.  Of  course  I 
was  obliged  to  conquer  to  a  certain  extent  my  aversion  to 
anything  but  finished  works,  and  accordingly  I  made  a  con- 
siderable number  of  sketches  '  proprement  dits.'  With  regard 
to  composing,  however,  I  still  feel  the  same  paralysing  diffi- 
dence, I  cannot  make  up  my  mind  to  draw  compositions 
like  those  I  have  hitherto  produced,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
I  feel  that  I  am  as  yet  incapable  of  drawing  any  in  the 
manner  I  should  wish,  and  as  I  see  no  prospect  of  such  a 
desirable  state  of  things  till  I  have  spent  a  summer  in  the 
mountains  and  drawn  landscape,  men  and  animals  for  several 
months,  it  is  very  unlikely  that  I  shall  put  my  hand  to  any- 
thing original  till  next  winter  ;  then  I  shall  pour  myself  out 
with  a  vengeance.  When  I  left  Frankfurt  I  asked  Steinle 
whether  I  should  compose  the  first  winter ;  he  answered : 
'  Oh,  wen?i  Sie  mogen!  He  foresaw  how  it  would  be.  It 
gives  me  great  comfort  to  feel  that  I  am  quietly  settled  to 
study  for  some  years  in  one  place,  and  that  I  am  able  to 
make  plans  for  the  future  without  having  to  reckon  on 
removals  and  changes.  Meanwhile,  this  winter  I  take  models, 
I  have  been  studying  the  anatomy  of  the  horse,  I  shall  draw 
at  the  Vatican  from  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  {^perhaps, 
too,  from  the  antique),  &c.  &c,  A  digression,  whilst  I  think 
of  it :  I  think  that  the  pains  in  my  eyes  are  in  some  measure 
nervous,  for  mentioning  them  invariably  brings  them  on,  in 
broad  daylight.  About  the  little  emulation  I  find  here  I 
have  spoken  in  my  last  letter.  The  general  tone  here  (of 
course  with  some  exceptions)  is  one  of  public  toadying 
mediocrity.  There  is  here  one  young  Frenchman,  remark- 
able for  correctness  but  coldly  scientific  (only  in  his  art), 
without  that  warmth  and  spontaneity  which  give  such  a 
peculiar  charm  to  works  of  genius.  Overbeck  was  endlessly 
courteous  and    praised   me   very   highly,  talked  of  the  artists 

VOL.   I.  H 


114  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

in  Rome  acquiring  in  us  '  einen  achten  Zuwachs '  ('a  real 
addition '),,  but  the  half  century  between  our  respective  ages 
and  his  pietistical  manner  make  me  sure  that  we  shall  derive 
but  little  advantage  from  him  ;  I  neither  expected  nor  wished 
to  find  a  second  Steinle. 

"  As  for  Powers,  though  he  was  very  polite  to  me  in  his 
own  sort  of  way,  I  am  pretty  certain  that  he  had  entirely 
forgotten,  nor  did  he  ask  me  to  show  him  anything.  You 
may  console  yourself  on  that  score — a  sculptor,  especially  one 
who  can  do  little  but  busts  (however  pre-eminently  good  they 
may  be,  and  hts  are),  can  very  seldom  judge  well  of  pictures. 
Gibson,  the  great  sculptor,  whom  I  know  very  well,  and  who 
shows  me  great  kindness  by-the-bye,  has  about  as  little 
judgment  in  painting  as  a  man  well  can.  That  I  do  find 
models  here,  and  many  other  material  advantages,  I  told  you 
in  the  letter  that  you  lately  received. 

"I  have  now,  dear  Papa,  answered  all  your  questions;  it 
only  remains  for  me  to  thank  you  for  your  poignant  and 
admirably  practical  remarks  on  the  German  philosophers — 
remarks,  I  assure  you,  which  have  quite  answered  their 
purpose  ;  both  they  and  the  kind  wishes  you  have  expressed 
concerning  my  future  advancement  shall  not  have  been  thrown 
away  on  your  grateful  and  affectionate  son, 

"  Fred   Leighton." 

{Postmark^  Jan.  5,  '53.) 

"  Dearest  Mamma, — To  your  appendix  an  appendix. 
Paper  and  time  force  me  to  laconism. 

"  My  personal  discomforts,  for  which  you  show  such  kind 
sympathy,  are,  I  am  happy  to  say,  now  only  very  slight  ; 
the  only  thing  I  suffer  annoyance  from  is  my  stove,  which 
makes  my  head  ache ;  with  regard,  however,  to  beating  a 
retreat,  I  must  candidly  tell  you  that  I  see  my  only  chance 
of    coming   to    anything    is    studying    here    steadily    for   some 


ROME  115 

three  years  ;  the  more  so  that  it  is  by  all  accounts  only  at 
the  end  of  the  first  year  that  one  feels  all  the  advantages 
which  Rome  affords.  My  plans  seem  to  be  these :  this  winter, 
studies ;  next  summer,  ditto,  in  the  mountains,  or  wherever 
it  is  coolest ;  next  winter,  pictures,  portraits,  compositions ; 
summer  after,  Paris,  see  the  large  Veronese  (which  was  in- 
visible the  last  time  I  was  there) ;  from  Paris  to  Bath  to  see 
all  you  darlings  again,  spend  two  or  three  weeks  in  England 
studying  its  character  under  the  ciceroneship  of  Oakes,  that 
thorough  Briton,  and  collecting  materials  for  some  large  (in 
meaning  if  not  in  size)  picture  to  be  painted  in  Rome  during 
the  third  winter,  and  to  be  my  firstling  in  an  English  exhibi- 
tion ;  I  feel  that  one  day  my  painting  will  have  a  strongly 
national  bias.  That  autumn  I  should  probably  return  to 
Rome  via  Spain  to  see  the  Murillos,   &c. 

"  When  you  next  write  to  Lady  Pollington,  pray  remember 
me  very  kindly  to  her ;  her  merry  face  and  facetious  ways 
are  still  before  me.  Lord  Walpole,  whom  you  mention  as 
coming  to  Rome,  and  whom  I  shall  know  if  he  does,  is 
indeed,  I  believe,  a  very  agreeable  and  clever  man.  The 
Henry  Walpoles  have  been  very  civil  to  me  ;  Mrs.  Walpole 
told  me  that  if  I  wrote  to  you  I  was  to  give  her  best — I 
think  she  said,  love — for  that  you  were  a  great  favourite 
of  hers. 

"  Here  I  must  absolutely  close,  though  I  have  plenty  more 
to  say.  My  very  best  thanks  to  Papa  and  you  all  for  the 
kind  presents,  but  I  don't  see  why  you  won't  allow  me  the 
pleasure  of  giving  you  anything.  As  I  have  written  this 
letter  immediately  after  the  other,  I  cannot  promise  to  write 
again  soon.  To  yourselves,  very  best  love  from  your  dutiful 
and  affect.  Fred  Leighton." 

The  following  letters  from  Steinle  are  evidently  the  first 
Leighton    received  in   Rome  from  his   master.      No    comment 


ii6  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

on  them  is  necessary.  Every  line  is  evidence  of  the  affec- 
tionate quality  and  beauty  of  the  nature  that  so  permanently 
influenced   Leighton's  for  good. 

Trafislaiioii.]  "Frankfurt  am  Main, 

January  6,   1853. 

"  My  very  dear  Friend, — Although  I  do  not  know  your 
address,  and  am  uncertain  whether  this  will  reach  you,  yet 
I  can  no  longer  withstand  the  urging  of  my  heart ;  I  only 
know  that  you  and  Gamba  are  in  Rome,  that  you  have  visited 
Overbeck,  as  he  himself  has  written  me ;  assuming,  how- 
ever, that  you  also  visit  the  Cafe  Greco,  I  will  risk  that 
address.  Your  spirited  lines  from  Venice  reached  me  safely, 
and  I  can  truly  say  that  since  then  my  thoughts  and  my 
good  wishes  for  you  and  for  Gamba  have  daily  accompanied 
you.  A  report  which  has  been  circulated  here,  that  you, 
Gamba,  and  Andre  had  been  attacked  by  robbers,  made  me 
anxious  for  a  time,  and  I  expected  from  day  to  day  that  you 
would  yourself  write  me  something  about  this  adventure — in 
vain.  Overbeck  writes  me  now  that  it  would  give  him  par- 
ticular satisfaction  to  be  able  to  help  or  serve  you  in  any 
way  during  your  stay  in  Rome,  and  cordially  wishes  that 
you  and  Gamba  would  give  him  the  opportunity  to  do  so, 
but  unfortunately  he  knew  nothing  else  about  you  to  tell  me. 
What  S chaffer  writes  me  is  also  so  extremely  scanty,  that  for 
all  that  concerns  you  and  Rico  I  am  thrown  back  on  my  own 
thoughts  and  suppositions.  That  you  are  both  absent  from 
me  is  unfortunately  a  painful  truth  ;  as  to  whether  the  ideal 
life  which  from  old  and  dear  habit  I  still  live  with  you,  be 
also  true,  the  future,  I  hope,  may  show.  I  have  an  idea  that 
you,  dear  friend,  and  perhaps  also  your  faithful  comrade, 
already  suffer  from  the  artistic  fever  of  Rome,  which  every  one 
feels  in  the  first  year.  It  is  that  glorious  old  Rome,  with  her 
wealth,  and  the  multitude  of  her  impressions,  which  works  so 


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ROME  117 

powerfully  upon  the  receptive  mind,  that  it  can  retain  nothing 
in  contradiction,  and  cannot  escape  her  influence  ;  this  period  is 
one  of  discomfort,  because  we  feel  ourselves  oppressed  ;  but 
though  it  is  of  the  greatest  value,  and  no  doubt  bears  rich 
fruit,  the  work  of  artists  of  to-day  is  neither  in  a  position  to 
offer  you  anything  important,  nor  to  deceive  you  in  sight  of 
the  old  masters  ;  if  the  multitude  of  impressions  is  first  gradu- 
ally assimilated,  if  everything  is  assigned  its  place,  if  we  take 
a  wide  survey,  and  can  stride  forward  freely  in  pursuit  of  the 
goal  set  before  us,  then  only  does  that  wonderful  spirit  which 
hovers  over  Rome  rise  up  in  us  strong  and  inspiring,  and 
then  we  are  able  to  recognise  what  we  have  actually  won 
in  the  fight  with  discomfort.  Thus,  and  in  similar  circum- 
stances, I  fancy  that  my  dear  friends  are  in  the  same  case 
as  the  bees,  which  swarm,  and  toil  with  all  the  load  they 
collect,  but  cannot  make  honey  by  perpetual  sucking.  That 
is  inconvenient  and  oppressive,  but  ah !  when  this  time  is 
past,  what  wealth  will  they  unfold,  with  what  comfort  will 
they  look  upon  the  well-filled  satchel,  how  quickly  they  will 
recognise  that  such  wealth  pays  interest  for  the  whole  life ! 
But  if  it  is  otherwise,  dear  friend,  then  laugh  at  the  all-wise 
Steinle,  and  resolve  finally  to  free  him  from  such  delusions, 
and  to  set  the  matter  before  his  eyes  as  it  really  is,  and  be 
you  assured  of  one  thing,  that  he  always  wishes  that  every- 
thing may  be  good  and  prosperous  for  you,  that  all  that  you 
are  longing  to  attain  you  may  attain,  and  that  Almighty  God 
may  guard  you  and  Rico  from  all  ill !  You  can  have  had  no 
idea  with  what  feelings  your  friend  would  read  your  vigorous, 
spirited  lines  from  Venice.  I  received  them,  on  my  return, 
from  Gamba,  a  very  dear  lad,  and  could  not  help  being  sorry 
that  you,  who  have  become  so  dear  to  me,  should  know 
absolutely  nothing  of  what  distressed  your  friend.  We  are 
men ;  hear,  then,  the  news.  Returning  from  Switzerland,  I 
heard  of  the  illness  of  my  daughter  Anna,  in  Metz,  and  I  and 


ii8  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

my  wife  hurried  to  her,  and  spent  six  sorrowful  days  by  the 
death-bed  of  my  Httle  sixteen-year-old  daughter.  After  the 
funeral,  I  came  back  here,  and  finished  '  The  Raising  of  Jairus' 
Daughter.'  The  real  pleasure  of  my  art  I  felt  shrink  from 
me  day  by  day  in  Metz  ;  and  now  all  my  pleasure  depends 
upon  the  beloved  art,  for  happiness  is  more  and  more  con- 
fined within  the  four  walls  of  my  atelier.  Do  not  read  any 
complaint  in  this  ;  I  have  learnt  much  sadness,  but  have  also 
found  rich  cause  to  thank  God  from  my  heart.  What  manner 
of  children  should  we  be,  if  we  would  not  kiss  the  rod  when 
we  are  chastised  ?  And  now,  dear  friend,  with  all  my  heart 
a  greeting  to  Rome,  and  to  all  who  remember  me  kindly. 
All  friends  here  send  greetings  to  you  and  Gamba,  including 
Casella  il  Professore ;  Senator  Nay  is  in  Rome.  I  hope 
with  all  my  heart  that  you  have  good  news  of  your  dear  ones, 
and  remain,  always  and  altogether  yours,  Steinle." 


Translation?^ 

"Most  esteemed  Herr  Steinle,  —  When  you  receive 
these  lines  I  shall  have  already  been  long  in  the  lovely  land 
wherein  I  lack  nothing  but  your  presence  ;  I  beg  you  to 
accept  from  me  the  accompanying  translation  of  the  first 
volume  of  the  works  of  the  Father  of  English  Poetry  as  a 
little  remembrance ;  whether  it  is  a  good  rendering  of  the 
great  master  I  cannot  judge,  as  at  the  moment  of  writing 
it  has  not  arrived  ;  but  one  thing  I  can  answer  for :  it  is 
the  only  volume  of  the  only  translation  of  Chaucer  into  the 
German  language  in  existence ;  I  only  regret  that  there  is 
also  no  Italian  version  ;  may  it  serve  you  as  a  souvenir  of 
your  devoted  and  grateful  pupil,  Fred  Leighton. 

"  Frankfurt  a/M." 


ROME  119 

Translation.^ 

"Rome,  Via  della  Purificazione  No.  ii, 
January  1 1 . 

"My  very  dear  Friend, — At  last  I  am  able  to  write 
you  a  few  words,  and  (although  very  late)  to  send  you  my 
very  best  good  wishes  and  congratulations  for  the  New 
Year.  I  am  sure  that  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  forgive 
my  long  silence,  and  will  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
absolutely  could  not  help  it.  I  hope  with  all  my  heart  that 
in  the  meantime  you  have  been  well  and  strong,  and  that 
your  beautiful  works  have  progressed  in  accordance  with 
your  wishes.  How  has  the  experiment  with  the  new  ground 
turned  out.-*  Have  you  already  started  on  the  other  car- 
toon.'' I,  for  my  part,  have  experienced  the  fact  that  to 
make  plans  and  to  carry  them  out  are  two  different  things  ; 
for  nothing  has  come  of  the  pictures  which  I  set  myself  to 
paint.  I  have  already  told  you  in  Frankfurt,  dear  Master, 
how  painfully  my  deficiency  pressed  upon  me,  and  how 
clearly  I  felt  that  my  works  lacked  a  highly  genuine  finish 
in  the  form,  an  intimate  knowledge  of  nature ;  this  con- 
sciousness had  so  increased  when  I  arrived  in  Rome  that 
without  more  ado  I  determined  to  employ  myself  during  the 
whole  winter  exclusively  upon  school  tasks,  and  by  all  means 
to  endeavour  to  rid  my  artistic  capacity  a  little  of  this  de- 
fect ;  so  now  I  continually  paint  study  heads,  which  I  try  to 
finish  as  much  as  possible,  and  in  which  I  especially  have 
good  modelling  in  view ;  that  I  have  achieved  this,  unfor- 
tunately I  cannot  yet  assert,  but  I  derive  great  enjoyment 
from  the  attempt,  and  hope  that  my  efforts  will  not  remain 
unrewarded  ;  I  shall  then  next  year,  if  I  come  to  the  paint- 
ing of  pictures  again,  go  to  work  with  greater  knowledge 
and  clearness,  and  shall  be  able,  I  hope,  to  clothe  my  ideas 
more  suitably. 

"  I    have   nothing   further    to    report    of  myself.      I    hope, 


120  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

my  dear  Friend,  to  receive  a  few  lines  from  you,  telling  me 
what  you  are  doing,  for  you  know  well  how  deeply  interested 
I  am. 

"  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  Mr.  Welsch  that  my 
trouble  to  find  the  Palazzo  Scheiderff  was  in  vain,  and  I 
have  also  unluckily  not  seen  his  brother?  If  I  pass  through 
Florence  again  in  spring,  I  will  try  my  luck  once  more. 
And  now,  adieu,  dear  Master.  Kindest  remembrances  to 
your  wife  and  children,  and  to  you  the  warmest  greeting, 
from  your  grateful  pupil,  -  Leighton." 

Translation^ 

"  Frankfurt  am  Main, 
March  24,  1853. 

"  My  very  dear  F'riend, — My  desire  for  news  of  you 
and  Gamba  was  certainly  great,  but  I  possessed  my  soul 
in  patience,  for  I  was  convinced  that  it  would  come  at 
last ;  you  and  Rico  have  given  me  so  many  proofs  of  your 
love  and  friendship,  that  I  was  able  to  face  with  perfect 
calm  and  confidence  all  the  numerous  and  impatient  ques- 
tions for  news  of  you  which  came  to  me.  Now,  however, 
I  see  by  your  welcome  lines,  to  my  inward  regret,  that 
some  restrained  anxiety  about  you  is  justified,  and  while  on 
one  hand  1  greatly  regret  the  weakness  of  your  eyes  and 
in  a  manner  suffer  with  you,  yet  I  have  also  my  consoling 
argument  that  the  Roman  climate,  at  a  better  time  of  year, 
will  certainly  be  good  for  your  ailment,  and  that  my  Leighton 
can  rise  up  again,  that  he  will  not  lose  courage.  But 
whatever  joy  I  had  when  you  and  your  noble  friends  bore 
such  splendid  witness  of  one  another,  I  cannot  express  my- 
self as  very  easily  satisfied  ;  that  you,  in  your  efforts,  would 
stand  alone  in  Rome,  I  knew  well,  I  am  sure  you  are  cut 
out  for  it,  and  it  appears  to  me,  even,  as  if  every  good 
heart   that    rises    to    a    happy    independence    nowadays,    must 


ROME  12  1 

feel  his  loneliness,  I  might  even  say,  that  it  must  in  order  to 
give  skill  and  power  of  conviction.  The  better  you  get  to 
know  Rome,  the  more  you  will  learn  to  love  her,  and  much  will 
be  freely  given,  when  once  the  year  of  struggle  is  past,  that 
could  never  be  seized  by  force.  How  much  I  have  rejoiced 
over  all  that  you  write  of  your  and  Rico's  studies,  how  I 
should  like  to  see  them  !  Cling  now  to  nature,  you  are  quite 
right,  you  will  not  lose  the  art  of  composition,  for  it  is  not 
a  thing  that  can  be  acquired  :  it  is  a  gift,  and  one  that  you 
and  Rico  possess.  Now,  indeed,  it  always  seems  to  me,  when 
I  consider  the  highest  aims  of  art,  and  indeed  the  greatest 
capacities  of  man,  that  there  should  be  a  certain  equalisation 
of  the  various  powers,  and  it  strikes  me  as  indispensable,  if 
we  are  not  to  become  one-sided,  that  we  should  by  such 
equalisation  balance  these  various  powers  so  as  to  achieve  a 
complete  harmony.  Thus,  however  great  a  delicacy  goose- 
liver  may  be,  it  always  indicates  a  diseased  goose,  the  mon- 
strous enlargement  of  an  organ,  &c.  ;  I  do  not  say  this  by 
way  of  blame,  and  am  thinking  perhaps  too  much  only  of 
my  own  feeble  powers,  but  merely  as  a  little  warning  that 
it  may  be  well  to  keep  in  view.  Do  not  think  that  it  is  the 
Professor  asserting  himself,  I  say  this  only  as  a  matter  of 
experience  and  because  you  and  Rico  lie  very  close  to  my 
heart,  and  are  associated  with  my  own  feeling  of  the  sacred- 
ness  of  art.  I  have,  however,  no  anxiety  ;  you  have  good 
and  noble  natures,  and  will  not  lose  the  tracks  of  truth. 
Spare  and  save  your  eyes,  I  hope  that  you  will  soon  be 
quite  free  from  this  ill,  and  then  —  forward!  What  you 
write  me  of  the  friends  is  certainly  quite  correct,  and  I  my- 
self thought  no  otherwise  ;  Overbeck  is  the  purest  and  noblest 
man  that  I  have  ever  met ;  moreover  a  genius — therefore 
I  rejoice  that  you  and  Rico  know  him  ;  he  speaks  with 
feeling  and  judgment  of  his  art.  Excuse,  dear  Leighton, 
my  forgetfulness  ;   I  have  not  thought  of  the   dear  and  lovely 


122  THE    LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

present  which  with  your  note  surprised  me  so  pleasantly  on 
my  return — I  mean  the  powerful  and  rich  Chaucer  ;  I  find 
the  prologue  splendid,  rather  knotty,  but  the  Germans  of 
that  time  are  still  knottier.  I  thank  you  heartily.  Of  my- 
self, I  can  inform  you,  that  I  daily  rejoice  more  over  the 
grey  canvas ;  I  have  worked  two  months  on  my  picture 
of  the  '  Whitsun-sermon,'  and  now  in  three  weeks  have 
painted  half  the  picture,  and  am,  even  though  somewhat 
exhausted,  not  altogether  discontented  with  the  result.  This 
picture,  which  grows  daily  more  like  a  fresco,  is  getting  on 
fast,  but  much  still  remains  to  be  done,  and  I  have  the  pro- 
gress of  the  whole  picture  in  hand.  Of  the  friends  here,  I 
can  tell  you  that  all  speak  of  you  and  Gamba  with  love  and 
sympathy,  and  that  you  are  kindly  remembered  by  all.  Thank 
Rico  cordially  for  his  welcome  note  ;  if  you  and  Rico  always 
call  me  '  master,'  a  title  which  abashes  me,  we  shall  be 
friends,  and  I  hope  that  as  I  grow  old  in  years,  at  least  I 
shall  remain  young  in  art.  Tell  Rico  that  I  had  a  visit 
from  his  grandmother,  who  loves  him  dearly ;  with  a  few 
lines  he  would  give  her  extreme  pleasure.  Now,  adio,  dear 
friend  ;  equip  yourself  with  patience  and  courage,  and  keep 
sad  thoughts  far  from  you.  Greet  all  friends  from  me  most 
heartily,  also  I  have  to  send  to  you  and  Gamba  warmest 
greetings  from  all  here,  including  my  wife,  Frau  Ruth 
Schlosser,  and  Casella.  Let  me  hear  sometimes  how  you  get 
on.     Always  and  altogether  yours,  Edw.   Steinle." 

{Postmark,  March  28,  1853.  {On  cover — Mrs.  Leighton, 

Received  April  6.)  i  Brock  Street,  Bath,  England.) 

"Rome,  V^'ia  de  Porta  Pinciana  8. 

"  Dearest  Mamma, — If  I  did  not,  as  was  naturally  my 
first  impulse,  answer  your  letter  directly  I  received  it,  it  was 
because   Isabel's^   portrait  has  of  late  taken   up  all   the  time, 

^  Miss  Laing,  afterwards  Lady  Nias. 


ROME  123 

or  rather  eyes,  that  I  can  dispose  of;  this  being,  however, 
a  drying  day,  I  seize  the  opportunity  of  making  up  for  lost 
time.  As  I  have  mentioned  the  portrait,  I  may  as  well  say 
en  passant  that  I  expect  it  to  be  a  very  successful  likeness, 
and  as  decent  a  painting  as  a  thing  done  in  so  desultory  a 
manner  can  be  expected  to  be ;  Gamba  admires  it  very 
much,  and  intends  to  copy  some  parts.  I  was  much  touched 
at  the  affectionate  sympathy  you  show  for  me  in  my  visita- 
tion, and  am  as  glad  for  you  as  for  myself  to  say  that  there 
is  a  decided  improvement  in  the  state  of  my  eyes,  so  that, 
although  they  are  by  no  means  well,  it  would  hardly  be 
worth  while  to  go  to  a  doctor  for  a  written  account  of  my 
symptoms ;  the  more  so  as  Dr.  Small,  who  is  a  man  very 
well  thought  of,  thinks  it  all  depends  on  the  weather,  and 
will  go  away  when  fine  weather  sets  in,  which  God  give ! 
Add  to  this  that  several  people  of  my  acquaintance,  i.e.  Mrs. 
Sartoris  and  Mrs.  Walpole,  who  never  had  anything  the 
matter  with  their  eyes,  find  them  affected  now.  About  two 
months  ago  I  went  to  consult  Dr.  Small,  or  rather,  on  calling 
on  him  one  day  he  had  me  up  professionally,  for  I  felt  a 
delicacy  about  going  myself,  as  he  had  told  me  that  he 
would  be  very  happy  to  be  of  service  to  me  without  any 
remuneration.  Finding  that  Dr.  Small's  prescription  had 
done  me  no  perceptible  good,  I  determined  at  last  to  go  to 
a  homoeopathic  physician,  of  whom  I  heard  great  things. 
He  was  originally  the  apothecary  of  Hahneman  (do  I  spell 
the  name  rightly  ?)  the  father  of  Homoeopathy.  Under  his 
hands  I  certainly  improved  rapidly  ;  but  it  so  happened  that, 
just  as  I  went  to  him,  the  rains,  which  had  lasted  without 
interruption  for  six  weeks,  ceased,  and  we  had  some  days 
of  glorious  weather — now,  who  cured  me,  Jove  or  the  apothe- 
cary '^.  The  weather  is  now  as  bad  again  as  ever ;  but 
though  less  well,  I  have  not  relapsed  with  it.  Most  days  I 
can   paint   three   or   four   hours   (I   don't  think   I   could  draw), 


124  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

and  the  other  evening  I  even  read  half  an  hour  with  a  lamp 
without  feeling  pain  ;  what  a  pass  things  have  come  to  that 
that  should  be  a  boast!  I  confess  that  the  little  I  do,  I 
do  without  energy  or  great  enjoyment.  I  have  not  yet 
given  my  eyes  the  fair  trial  of  complete  rest  which,  when 
the  Laings  go,  I  shall  be  able,  through  your  kind  promise 
of  a  piano  and  singing  lessons,  to  do  for  a  fortnight  or  three 
weeks.  My  sincere  thanks  to  Papa  for  his  kindness  and 
liberality.  I  shall  begin  immediately  after  the  holy  week, 
for  until  the  forestieri,  of  which  there  are  a  fabulous  number, 
have  gone  to  their  respective  summer  quarters,  neither  piano 
nor  masters  are  in  any  way  come-at-able. 

"  Having  now  spoken  of  my  health,  I  return  to  your  letter, 
for  I  find  that  the  only  way  of  writing  at  all  to  the  point, 
is  to  answer  sentence  for  sentence  the  questions  and  remarks 
you  ask  and  make,  and  in  the  same  order. 

"  I  indeed  count  myself  fortunate  in  having  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sartoris  ;  it  is  a  source  of  the  greatest 
enjoyment  to  me  ;  they  show  me  the  most  marked  kindness, 
which  I  value  all  the  more  because  it  is  for  my  own  sake, 
and  not  for  that  of  a  dinners-demandino^  letter  of  introduction. 
I  am  never  there  less  than  three  times  a  week,  and  often 
more ;  I  have  dined  with  thetn  en  famille  four  times,  and 
it  is  only  seven  weeks  since  I  made  their  acquaintance. 
Although  I  have  a  good  many  friends  here,  it  is  the  only 
house  which  it  is  improving  to  me  to  frequent ;  her  con- 
versation is  most  agreeable  to  me,  not  from  any  knowledge 
she  displays,  but  from  her  great  refinement  of  feeling  and 
taste ;  her  husband  is  an  enthusiastic  amateur  painter.  I 
also  meet  there  a  young  man  of  the  name  of  Cartwright,  a 
very  old  friend  of  theirs,  who  seems  to  me  to  possess  an 
extraordinary  amount  of  information,  a  mine  which  I  have 
already  begun  to   '  exploiter '  to  my  own  profit. 

"  I    have    made    a  considerable   number    of  acquaintances. 


ROME  125 

and  have  had  more  than  enough  parties,  for  people  have  a 
habit  here  of  receiving  once  a  week,  so  that,  especially 
towards  the  end  of  the  season,  there  never  was  an  evening 
when  I  could  not  have  gone  somewhere,  and  often  I  had 
two  or  three  places  for  one  night ;  I  used  often  to  stay  away 
from  them,  till  I  was  afraid  of  offending  people,  which  one 
does  not  wish  to  do  when  one  experiences  kindness  from 
them.  Then  came  a  long  series  of  arrears,  which  I  found 
most  monotonously  tiring,  for  I  am  more  lazy  about  dressing 
for  a  party  than  ever ;  more  than  once,  when  I  have  gone 
to  my  room  to  go  through  that  hateful  operation,  I  have 
slipped  into  bed  instead  of  into  my  glazed  boots  ;  and  yet, 
if  I  had  taken  the  steps  a  great  many  young  men  do  take, 
I  should  have  gone  to  twice  the  number  of  places.  Now  all 
this  was  very  well  for  this  winter,  as  I  could  do  nothing- 
else  on  account  of  my  eyes,  but  next  year  I  shall  turn  over 
quite  a  new  leaf ;  in  the  first  place,  give  up  dancing  alto- 
gether— it  is  too  fatiguing  ;  and  in  the  next,  go  nowhere  but 
to  my  old  acquaintances  (of  this  winter,   I   mean). 

"  I  have  lionised  Isabel  all  over  Rome,  and  devoted  to 
her  nearly  all  my  afternoons  since  she  came  ;  it  is  the 
luckiest  thing  in  the  world,  her  coming  here  at  a  time  when 
I  am  not  able  to  paint ;  she  is  going  in  a  few  days  ;  you 
may  easily  imagine  that  I  have  not  slept  injthe  afternoons 
since  she  has  been  here. 

"  Gamba  is,  as  you  rightly  suggested,  far  too  straitened 
to  go  into  society  ;  however,  he  no  way  requires  it,  he  has 
good  health  and  untiring  industry,  and  requires  no  such 
relaxation.  As  my  paper  is  coming  to  an  end,  I  must  pass 
over  the  rest  of  your  letter  more  rapidly.  I  fully  feel  with 
you  that  it  is  better  in  many  respects  that  I  should  not  go 
to  Frankfurt,  but  I  confess  that  when  I  saw  it  was  out  of 
the  question,  I  felt  painfully  having  to  wait  another  year 
before    seeing    you ;     however,    it    is    for    the    best.       I    am 


126  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

interested  in  hearing  that  you  have  bought  a  house  in  Bath  ; 
it  looks  as  if  you  had  at  last  found  an  anchor  in  your  own 
country ;  is  the  society  of  Bath  really  agreeable  ?  I  always 
hear  it  spoken  of  in  a  jocular  tone.  What  becomes  of  the 
Frankfurt  house  ?  You  won't  sell  it,  will  you  ?  Pray  re- 
member me  most  kindly  to  Kate  Chamberlayne,  and  thank 
her  for  giving  such  an  unworthy  a  corner  in  her  memory. 

"And  now,  dear  Mamma,  I  must  close.  Pray  write  very 
soon,  and  give  me  a  quantity  of  news  about  all  your  doings  ; 
tell  me  how  dear  Lina  gets  on  and  Gussy's  Pegasus." 

The  preceding  letter  contains  the  first  mention  that  I 
have  seen  of  Leisfhton's  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sartoris, 
who  were  to  be  so  much  to  him  during  twenty-five  years  of 
his  life.  He  had  known  them  seven  weeks  when  he  wrote 
it,  and  already  Rome  had  become  a  happier  place.  All  that 
most  interested  him  in  social  intercourse  was  satisfied  in 
their  companionship,  and  in  that  of  the  intimate  circle  of 
friends  who  frequented  their  house.  It  soon  became  a 
second  home,  a  home  doubly  welcome,  as  Leighton  felt 
keenly  being  separated  from  his  family.  Mr.  Sartoris  was 
a  fairly  good  amateur  artist,  and  was  considered  by  his 
friends  to  be  a  first-rate  critic  of  painting.  To  Leighton's 
reasoning  mind,  ever  prone  to  analyse  and  to  give  expression 
to  the  results  of  his  analysis,  it  must  have  been  inspiringly 
interesting  to  discuss  art  in  general  and  his  own  in  particular 
with  one  who  had  a  natural  orift  for  criticism. 

Again,  music  was  ever  a  joy  to  Leighton,  a  joy  only 
equalled  by  that  inspired  by  his  own  art.  Mrs.  Sartoris 
(Adelaide  Kemble),  imbued  with  the  noble  dramatic  instincts 
and  traditions  of  the  Kembles,  was  not  only  a  great  singer, 
but  a  great  musician,  and  had  in  all  matters  a  fine  taste, 
bred  of  true  and  deep  feeling  united  with  keen  natural  per- 
ceptions.      In    Miss   Thackeray's   "Preface   to   a   Preface"   to 


ROME  127 

Mrs.  Sartoris'  delightful  story,  "  A  Week  in  a  French  Country 
House,"  she  quotes  the  description  of  one  who  had  known 
the  two  sisters,  Fanny  and  Adelaide  Kemble,  from  their 
youth  :  "  Mrs.  Kemble  is  essentially  poetic  and  dramatic  in 
her  nature  ;  Mrs.  Sartoris,  so  much  of  an  artist,  musical,  with 
a  love  for  exquisite  things  and  all  that  belongs  to  form  and 
colour."  (Some  of  us  remember  hearing  Lord  Leighton  say 
that,  though  Mrs.  Sartoris  did  not  paint,  she  was  a  true 
painter  in  her  sense  of  beauty  of  composition,  in  her  great 
feeling  for  art.)  Another  old  friend,  referring  to  Mrs.  Sar- 
toris, with  some  show  of  reason  deprecated  any  attempt  to 
record  at  all  that  which  was  unrecordable :  "Would  you 
give  a  dried  rose-leaf  as  a  sample  of  a  garden  of  roses  to 
one  who  had  never  seen  a  rose  ? "  she  exclaims,  recalling, 
not  without  emotion,  the  golden  hours  she  had  spent,  the 
talks  she  had  once  enjoyed  in  the  Wasash  Pergola.  "You 
have  only  to  speak  of  things  as  they  are,"  said  a  great  critic 
who  had  known  Mrs.  Sartoris  in  her  later  years.  "Use  no 
conventional  epithets  :  those  sisters  are  beyond  any  banalities 
of  praise."  Again,  take  another  verdict :  "  That  fine  and 
original  being,  so  independent  and  full  of  tolerance  for  the 
young  ;  sympathising  even  with  ?nisplaced  enthusiasm,  enter- 
ing so  vividly  into  a  girl's  unformed  longings.  When  I  first 
knew  her,  she  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  sort  of  revelation ; 
it  was  some  one  taking  life  from  an  altogether  new  and 
different  point  of  view  from  anything  I  had  ever  known 
before."  Such  are  the  descriptions  given  by  those  who  knew 
her  intimately  of  the  lady  who  held  out  so  kind  a  welcoming 
hand  to  Leighton  when,  as  a  youth  of  twenty-two,  he  started 
for  the  first  time  alone  on  the  journey  of  life.  I  saw  Mrs. 
Sartoris  only  two  or  three  times  at  the  house  of  our  mutual 
friends,  Mrs.  Nassau  Senior  and  Mrs.  Brookfield.  It  was 
during  the  last  years  of  Mrs.  Sartoris'  life,  when  illness  and 
sorrow  had  marked  her  noble  countenance  with  suffering.     A 


128  THE    LIFE   OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

friend  of  mine,  however,  who  was  greatly  attached  to  Mrs. 
Sartoris,  would  often  talk  to  me  of  her.  My  friend  had 
had  exceptional  opportunities  of  coming'  in  contact  with  the 
most  distinguished  minds  in  Europe.  She  told  me  she  had 
never  met  with  any  personality  who  naturally,  and  apparently 
without  effort,  so  completely  dominated  all  others  who  were 
present.  However  distinguished  the  guests  might  be  at  a 
dinner,  Mrs.  Sartoris,  she  said,  was  invariably  the  centre  of 
interest  to  all  present. 

The  Sartoris  children  were  another  source  of  delight  to 
Leighton  in  this  home.  No  greater  child-lover  ever  existed. 
He  writes,  moreover,  that  all  social  pleasures  which  he 
enjoyed  during  the  three  years  he  lived  in  Rome  he  owed 
to  these  friends. 

With  life  brightened  and  inspired  by  their  sympathy,  and 
by  all  the  sources  of  interest  and  culture  which  their  society 
included,  Leighton  began  brooding  over  the  work  which  he 
meant  should  embody  the  best  of  his  attainments  so  far  as 
they  were  then  developed.  Florence  and  her  art  had  cast 
a  spell  on  his  spirit  very  early  in  his  existence.  He  had 
become  especially  enamoured  of  Giotto,  the  half-Catholic, 
the  half-Greek  Giotto.  Pheidias  had  not  yet  touched  him 
intimately ;  but  his  loving,  spontaneous  appreciation  of  this 
Florentine  master,  whose  work  in  one  sense  echoes  the  secret 
of  the  noble,  serene  sense  of  beauty  to  be  found  in  that  of 
the  Greeks,  proves  that  in  very  early  days  Leighton 's  re- 
ceptive powers  were  alive  to  it.  The  subject  which  inspired 
his  first  great  effort  appealed  especially  to  Leighton  from 
more  than  one  point  of  view.  In  the  historical  incident  which 
he  chose  was  evinced  the  great  reverence  and  appreciation  with 
which  the  early  Florentines  regarded  art,  even  when  expressed 
in  the  archaic  form  of  Cimabue's  painting.  The  fact  of  his 
picture  of  the  Madonna  causing  so  much  public  enthusiasm 
was    in    itself  a   glorification    of  art ;    a    witness    that    in    the 


ROME  129 

integral    feelings    of   these    Italians    such    enthusiasm    for   art 

could   be  excited   in   all   classes  of   the  people.      One   of  the 

doctrines     Leighton    most    firmly    believed,    and    most    often 

expressed,  was   that  of  the   necessity  of  a  desire   for   beauty 

among  the  various   classes  of  a  nation,   poor  and   rich   alike, 

before  art  of  the  best  could  become  current  coin.^     In  painting 

the  scene  of   Cimabue's    Madonna   being    carried   in   triumph 

through    the    streets    to    the   Church   of   Sta.    Maria    Novella, 

Leighton    felt    he    could    record    not   only   his   own   reverence 

for  his   vocation,   but   the    fact   that   all   who    follow  art  with 

love  and  sincerity  find  a  common  ground,  whatever  the  class 

may  be  to  which  they  belong.     To   Steinle,  religion  and  art 

were  as  one,  and  his  pupil   had   so   far  been   inoculated  with 

his    master's    feeling    that,    as    his    friend    and    brother   artist, 

Mr.    Briton    Riviere,   writes:    "Art  was   to    Leighton    almost 

a  religion,  and  his  own  particular  belief  almost  a  creed."     As 

no   difference    of   class    should    be    recognised    in    church,    so 

neither  should  any  be  accentuated  between  artists,  when  such 

are  worthy  of  their  calling,  a  belief  which    Leighton   carried 

into    practice    all    his    life    in    his    relations    with    his    brother 

artists.       He    makes    Cimabue,    the   noble,    lead   by   the  hand 

the    shepherd    boy   Giotto,    who   was   destined   to  outstrip   his 

patron    in    the    race    for   fame,    and    to    become    so    great   an 

influence   in   the   history  of  his  country's   art.     The  magnates 

of    the    city    are    represented    in     Leighton's    procession    as 

forming    part    of    it,    while    Dante,    standing    in    a    shadowed 

corner,  is  watching  it  pass. 

Again,  Leighton  was  afforded  an  opportunity,  in  the  acces- 
sories of  the  design,  of  painting  the  things  which  had  entranced 
him  in  those  days  when  he  first  fell  in  love  with  Italy  ;  the 
mediaeval  costumes  in  the  old  pictures,  the  background  to 
the   Citta  dei  Fiori  of   hills,   spiked   with   cypresses   pointing 


1 


See   Appendix.      Presidential   Address   delivered   by   Sir   F.    Leighton,    Bart,, 
P.R.A.,  at  the  Art  Congress,  held  at  Liverpool,  December  3,  1888. 

VOL.  I.  I 


I30  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

dark,  black-green  fingers  upwards  to  the  sky,  and  the  beau- 
tiful San  Miniato  crowninij  one  of  their  summits,  the  stone 
pines,  the  carnations,  the  agaves — all  these  things  that  had 
appealed  to  his  native  sense  of  beauty  as  such  wonderful 
revelations,  when,  at  the  age  of  ten,  he  was  transported  to 
the  sunlit  land  of  art  and  beauty,  after  being  accustomed  to 
the  sights  and  surroundings  of  a  dingy  region  in  fog-begrimed 
London. 

The  subject  of  Leighton's  early  opus  magnum  was  indeed 
no  bare  historical  fact  to  his  mind ;  it  was  a  symbol  of 
everything  to  which,  in  his  enthusiasm  for  his  calling,  he 
attached  the  most  earnest  meaning,  and  which  was  also 
steeped  in  the  radiant  glamour  cast  over  his  spirit  from 
childhood  by  the  land  that  inspires  all  that  is  most  ardent 
in  the  aesthetic  emotions  of  an  artist. 

The  subject  decided  on,  in  the  spring-time  of  1853  he 
began  working,  as  hard  as  the  trouble  in  his  eyes  would 
permit,  at  the  cartoons  for  the  design.  His  intention  of 
remaining  in  Italy  during  the  summer  was  frustrated,  partly 
by  the  unsatisfactory  state  of  his  eyes  and  health  generally, 
partly  by  the  decision  of  his  family  to  return  to  their  home 
in  Frankfort  for  the  summer,  before  finally  setding  in  Bath. 
This  change  of  plans  is  first  mentioned  in  a  letter  to  Steinle 
received  February  23,  1853  : — 

Translation.'] 

Rome,  Via  di  Porta  Pinciano  8. 

Dear  Master  and  Friend, — How  gladly  I  seize  the  oppor- 
tunity to  answer  your  delightful  letter,  and  to  connect  myself  again 
through  the  post  with  a  man  and  a  time  round  whom  and  which 
so  many  dear  remembrances  cling  ;  that  I  did  not  do  this  imme- 
diately on  receipt  of  your  lines,  I  hope  you  have  not  set  down  to 
a  possible  negligence  or  to  any  sort  of  cooling  of  my  grateful 
attachment  to  you,  but  that  you  have  thought, — something  has 
happened,  Leighton  has  not  forgotten  me  ;  and  so  it  is  ;   I   suffer 


ROME  131 

with  my  eyes.  How  sorry  I  am  to  begin  a  letter  by  giving  you 
such  news,  for  you  expected  only  to  hear  from  me  of  industrious 
making  of  progress  ;  therefore  exculpation  of  my  silence  is  my 
first  duty.  The  disorder  of  my  eyes  is  not  painful  ;  I  do  not 
suffer  with  it  ;  I  am  only  incapacitated.  Oh,  that  I  were  again 
in  Frankfurt,  then  I  should  be  well  !  Otherwise  I  am  fairly  well, 
and  am  intensely  eager  to  do  a  great  deal — and  dare  not  ;  I  am 
not  altogether  incapacitated,  only  my  wings  are  clipped  ;  I  work 
for  two  or  three  hours  every  day,  but  as  I  cannot  accomplish 
all  that  I  desire,  the  little  I  can  affords  me  the  less  pleasure  ; 
what,  however,  particularly  damps  my  ardour  is  the  lack  of 
intellectual  stimulus,  because  for  nearly  six  weeks  I  have  not  looked 
at  a  book,  for  in  the  evening  I  simply  dare  not  do  anything.  I 
have  driven  myself  out  into  society,  till  I  absolutely  prefer  going 
to  bed.  If  I  could  only  compose  in  my  head  !  but  first  this  was 
always  difficult  for  my  unquiet  head,  and  secondly  I  have,  in 
consequence  of  this  moral  Sirocco,  been  blown  upon  by  such  a 
svoglia-tezza  that  it  is  quite  impossible  ;  it  only  remains  for  me  to 
think  sadly  of  my,  and  I  may  say  to  you,  most  sympathetic  friend, 
of  our  hopeful  expectation,  and  to  vex  myself  with  the  recollection 
of  the  zeal  and  joy  with  which  I  had  commenced  to  put  my  plans 
into  execution  in  Venice  and  Florence.  My  optic  ailment  is  partly 
of  the  nerves,  but  principally  rheumatic.  You  can  imagine  whether 
it  has  been  improved  by  four  weeks  of  unbroken  wet  weather  ! 
But  enough  of  these  complaints.  I  will  now  turn  to  your  letter 
and  answer  the  points  on  which  you  touch.  What  a  refreshment 
your  lines  were  to  me  1  They  are  a  mirror  of  your  warm,  rich 
soul  ;  I  read  with  unfeigned  emotion  how  sympathetically  you 
still  think  of  your  two  pupils  ;  you  have  not  been  out  of  our 
minds  for  a  moment  ;  see  how  it  is  in  my  atelier  here  :  in  your 
portrait  you  are  bodily,  in  your  writings  you  are  spiritually, 
present  with  me  daily.  That  I  did  not  write  to  you  immediately 
on  my  arrival  was  certainly  wrong  of  me,  for  then  I  had  not 
begun  to  suffer  with  my  eyes  ;  but  my  head  was  in  such  a  maze 
that  I  always  put  off  and  thought,  I  will  wait  till  I  hear  if  he 
has  received  my  first  lines,  quite  forgetting  that  you  did  not  know 
my  address  in  Rome.  I  am  sure  you  will  forgive  me.  What 
you  imagined  about  my  impressions,  agrees  at  the  first  blush  with 


132  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

the  facts,  but  as  regards  the  "  gathered  honey  "  it  has  unfortunately 
turned  out  quite  differently.  I  feel  as  if  blighted,  and  until  I  have 
the  full  use  of  my  eyes  it  will  not  be  otherwise.  Of  Rico  I  will 
say  nothing,  for  he  will  write  himself  either  to-day  or  to-morrow  ; 
I  can  only  tell  you  that  so  far  we  have  travelled  through  Italy 
in  perfect  concord  and  friendship  ;  but  there  is  one  thing  that  he 
will  not  tell  you  himself,  he  is  indefatigably  industrious,  and  has 
made  marked  progress  in  both  drawing  and  painting.  One  word 
about  my  own  development.  Since  I  left  Frankfurt,  my  observa- 
tions on  nature  and  art,  in  all  beyond  what  is  technical,  have 
produced  in  me  a  curious  shyness,  a  peculiar  and  uncomfortable 
distrust  of  myself.  When  on  my  journey  I  saw  Nature  unfold 
before  my  eyes  in  her  teeming  summer  glory,  and  saw  how  each 
flower  is  like  a  miracle  on  her  richly  worked  garment,  when  I  saw 
how  golden  threads  wound  everywhere  through  the  whole  fabric 
of  beauty,  then  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  artist  could  not  without 
sacrilege  pass  over  the  least  thing  that  is  sealed  with  the  love  of 
the  Creator ;  when,  later  on,  I  noticed  in  Venice  and  Florence 
with  what  love  and  truth  the  great  Masters  had  rendered  the 
smallest,  then  my  feeUngs  arose  ;  I  knew  only  too  well  that  I, 
until  I  should  have  drawn  a  multitude  of  studies,  could  not 
possibly  complete  a  composition  in  the  sense  that  I  should  wish, 
and  otherwise  I  would  not  ;  and  the  consequence  of  this  know- 
ledge is  that  I  have  not  attempted  a  stroke  of  composition,  and 
I  often  anxiously  ask  myself  whether  I  could ;  thus  far  it  has 
worked  to  paralyse  me,  but  on  the  other  hand  it  has  led  me  to 
draw  some  very  complete  studies  which  would  certainly  not  dis- 
please you,  dear  Master.  Finally,  I  touch  upon  a  point  which, 
on  account  of  its  painfulness,  I  would  gladly  pass  over.  I  heard 
in  Florence  from  Andr6  of  your  severe  loss,  and  my  first  impulse 
was  to  write  to  you  to  express  my  sympathy  ;  but  when  I  set 
about  it,  I  found  it  so  infinitely  difficult  to  say  anything  suitable 
without  irritating  your  wound,  that  in  the  end  I  forbore.  Your 
consolation  you  draw  from  a  higher  source  than  human  friend- 
ship. 

We  have  visited  Overbeck  several  times,  and  have  found 
him  a  dear  and  estimable  old  man,  but  naturally  the  difference 
of   age  and    of   aims    is   too   great   between    us  for  him  to  supply 


ROME 


^33 


your  place  with  us  ;  besides,  I  do  not  wish  that  he  should  in 
any  way  supplant  Steinle  in  my  memory  or  affection. 

Flatz  and  Rhoden  have  welcomed  us  both  most  cordially  ; 
your  name  is  a  charm  with  them  ;  as  regards  their  art,  both  are 
thoroughly  able,  but  unfortunately  such  literal  copyists  of  Overbeck's 
style  that  absolutely  no  difference  is  perceptible ;  consequently 
they  are  quite  insipid  to  me,  for  I  consider  a  real  independence 
indispensably  necessary  in  an  artist.  From  all  three  I  send  you 
most  cordial  greetings. 

Much  as  I  could  still  tell  you,  my  dear  friend,  I  must  hasten 
to  a  close  on  account  of  my  eyes.  I  beg  you  not  to  repay  my 
silence  in  kind,  but  when  you  have  a  moment,  put  a  few  lines 
on  paper  for  the  encouragement  of  your  distant  pupil.  I  long 
also  to  know  how  your  works  prosper,  particularly  the  large  one 
on  the  grey  canvas  with  the  light  from  above. 

Accept  the  assurance  of  the  unalterable,  devoted  attachment 
of  your  grateful  pupil,  pRED  Leighton. 

It  is  not  impossible  that  I  might  come  to  Frankfurt  for  a 
short  time  this  summer. 

A  Monsieur  Frederic  Leighton, 

Frankfort  a/M.  Poste  Restante.  Bath,  May  15,  1853. 

My  beloved  Son, — I  have  hardly  the  courage  to  tell  you 
how  intense  is  our  joy  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  you,  so  much 
sooner  than  we  had  hoped,  knowing  that  our  pleasure  is  obtained, 
or  will  be,  at  the  expense  of  a  grievous  disappointment  to  your 
long  cherished  and  quite  reasonable  hopes.  Your  father  was 
quite  depressed  the  whole  evening  after  the  receipt  of  your  last 
letter.  I  am  sure  I  need  not  tell  you  how  willingly  I  would 
relinquish  my  expected  happiness  to  promote  yours.  I  shall 
write  but  a  short  letter,  as  we  hope  to  be  in  Frankfort  soon 
after  this  reaches  its  destination.  Surely  I  told  you  in  my  last 
epistle  we  mean  to  spend  the  summer  at  home,  for  the  last  time 
to  bear  that  name,  alas  !  I  fear  I  shall  never,  in  England,  feel 
as  I  do  in  Germany  when  tolerably  well.  The  climate  makes  it 
impossible    for    me    to    feel    that    springiness    of    spirit    so    nearly 


134  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

allied  to  youthful  feelings  which  I  have  often  enjoyed  at  Frank- 
fort and  for  no  particular  reason.  It  was  in  the  air,  but  never 
notice  these  observations  in  your  father's  presence.  He  is  suffi- 
ciently troubled  at  the  thoughts  of  depriving  me  of  my  beloved 
house  and  garden,  which,  after  all,  is  done  by  my  own  desire. 
I  have  just  been  reading  an  extract  from  a  letter  to  Miss  Paken- 
ham  from  Mrs.  Maquay,  partly  at  that  lady's  request,  that 
we  might  know  the  agreeable  impression  you  made  on  her 
and  your  acquaintances  at  Rome.  I  will  not  gratify  your  vanity 
by  repeating  words  of  praise  that  have  sunk  deep  into  my 
mother's  heart  ;  "  for  the  matter  of  that,"  I  think  your  father 
and  sisters  are  equally  pleased  at  the  tribute  to  your  attractive 
qualities. 

I  will  no  farther  fatigue  your  eyes  as  we  hope  so  soon  to 
embrace  you.  We  fervently  hope  your  eyes  will  be  obedient 
to  the  treatment,  which  shall  enable  you  to  return  to  Rome  for 
the  winter.  You  cannot  doubt  that  your  father  desires  as  much 
as  you  that  you  may  be   in  a  fit  state  to  return. 

God  bless  you,  my  dearest,  all  unite  in  this  wish,  if  possible, 
more  than  the  others. — Your  tenderly  attached  Mother, 

A.  Leighton. 

Leighton  went  for  medical  treatment  to  Bad  Gleisweiler, 
bei    Landau,    and  writes   to    Steinle    from    there  on   July   25, 

1853:- 

Translation.^ 

Honoured  and  dear  Friend, — What  can  you  think  of  me  for 
leaving  you  so  long  without  news  of  me !  It  certainly  did  not 
occur  through  forgetfulness,  but  because  I  always  deferred  in 
the  hope  of  being  able  to  announce  some  marked  improvement 
in  my  condition,  but  that  is  still  impossible,  although  my  general 
health  (particularly  in  respect  of  the  hardening  against  cold- 
catching)  is  much  stronger,  though  unfortunately  the  improve- 
ment in  my  eyes  is  not  great  ;  this,  however,  requires  time, 
and  especially  patience.  I  shall  be  here  another  fortnight,  then 
my    medical    treatment    will    proceed    in    a    so-called    after -cure 


ROME 


135 


(Nachkur)  ;  I  shall  be  dieted,  take  many  baths,  work  in  modera- 
tion— ouf !  But  I  will  conform  to  it  all  willingly,  if  only  I  may 
very  soon  return  to  my  adored  Italy.  How  I  cherish  the  beloved 
image  in  my  heart  1  how  it  comforts  me  !  how  many  idle  hours 
it  beautifies  for  me  !  how  mightily  it  draws  me !  The  remem- 
brance of  the  beautiful  time  spent  there  will  be  riches  to  me 
throughout  all  my  life  ;  whatever  may  later  befall  me,  however 
darkly  the  sky  may  cloud  above  me,  there  will  remain  on  the 
horizon  of  the  past  the  beautiful  golden  stripe,  glowing,  indelible, 
it  will  smile  on  me  like  the  soft  blush  of  even.  In  the  mean- 
time, I  impatiently  await  the  moment  when  I  shall  see  you 
again,  my  dear  friend,  and  when  I  shall  be  permitted  to  set 
before  your  eyes  the  work  which  we  have  already  discussed 
together  ;  I  shall  seek  so  to  deal  with  my  affairs  that  you  shall 
not  be  ashamed  of  your  grateful  and  devoted  pupil, 

Fred  Leighton. 

PS. — I  beg  to  be  remembered  most  kindly  to  your  wife, 
and  to  all  my  friends. 

(On  envelope — A.  Madame  Leighton, 
50        Frankfurt  a/M.) 

Bad  Gleisweiler,  bei  Landau. 
{Postmark,  July  30,  1853.) 

I  had  the  first  quarter  last  year  ;  so  that  I  shall  still  be 
where  I  started  ;  however,  I  can  say  nothing  more  myself  to 
Papa,  since  he  has  given  me  to  understand  that  his  reason  is 
want  of  confidence  in  me,  for,  having  rejected  the  obstacle  which 
I  myself  suggested — that  he  could  not  afford  it — he  leaves  no 
other  reason  possible.  I  confess  I  do  not  feel  much  flattered 
that  this  feeling  should  have  so  penetrated  him  as  to  make  him 
fall  back  from  me  on  an  occasion  so  momentous  as  the  painting 
of  my  first  exhibiting  picture,  a  moment  critical  in  my  career, 
and  on  the  immense  importance  of  which  nobody  can,  at  other 
times,  dwell  with  more  disheartening  eloquence  than  himself  ; 
how,  he  says,  do  I  know  that  your  picture  will  succeed  ?  Is  it 
this  doubt  that  makes  him  throw  obstacles  in  my  way  ?  Nobody 
is  better  persuaded  than  myself  of  the  kindness  of  Papa's  heart, 


136  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

and  of  the  sincerity  of  his  desire  for  my  welfare,  but  he  does 
not  seem  in  any  way  to  realise  the  importance  of  the  occasion. 
Now,  if  I,  like  so  many  other  young  men,  had  gone  into  the 
army,  he  would  not — for  what  father  does  ? — have  hesitated  for  a 
moment  to  provide  me  with  my  complete  outfit  as  required  by 
the  rules  of  the  regiment,  for  he  would  have  felt  that  I  could 
not  canter  about  on  parade  without  a  coat  ;  but  now  that  I  am 
girding  myself  for  a  far  greater  struggle,  now  that  I  am  about, 
single-handed,  to  face  the  bitter  weapons  of  public  criticism, 
does  he  withhold  the  sword  with  which  he  might  arm  me,  for 
fear  I  should  waste  my  blows  on  the  butterflies  that  pass  me 
as  I  march  into  the  field  ?  At  two  and  twenty  I  am  still  in  his 
eyes  a  schoolboy  whose  great  aim  is  to  squeeze  as  much  *'tin  out 
of  the  governor "  as  he  can  by  any  ingenuity  contrive. 

Will  you  remember  me  most  kindly  to  my  uncle,  aunt,  and 
cousins,  and  take  for  all  yourselves  the  best  love  of  your  dutiful 
and  affectionate  son,  Fred  Leighton. 

Leighton  took  the  cartoons  for  his  picture  of  Cimabue's 
Madonna  to  Frankfort  to  discuss  the  designs  with  Steinle 
and  obtain  from  him  his  criticism  and  advice.  In  the 
autumn  of  1853,  the  home  in  Frankfort  was  finally  given 
up,  and  the  family  returned  to  Bath.  Leighton,  on  his 
journey  back  to  Rome,  stopped  some  weeks  at  Florence,  to 
steep  himself  afresh  in  her  mediaeval  art,  and  to  gather 
fresh  material  for  the  details  of  his  picture.  During  this 
visit,  he  drew  the  group  of  figures  painted  al  fresco  by 
Taddeo  Gaddi  on  the  walls  of  the  Capella  Spagniola  of 
Sta.  Maria  Novella,  which  included  the  portraits  painted  from 
life  of  Cimabue  and  Giotto.  In  this  portrait  Leighton  found 
the  costume  for  the  hero  of  his  picture.  He  also  repeated 
the  dress  in  painting  the  cartoon  for  Cimabue's  portrait 
executed  in  mosaic  in  the  Victoria  and  Albert  Museum. 
The  pencil  sketch  (see  List  of  Illustrations)  is  wonderful 
as  a  drawing,  considering  the  conditions  under  which 
it    was    made.       It   was    secured    for    the     Leighton     House 


ROME  137 

Collection,  and  in  the  preface  for  the  catalogue  it  is  described 
(see   Appendix).     While   at    Florence   he  wrote   the   followino- 


letter : — 


Florence,  386  Via  del  Fasso, 
November  13,   1853. 


[My  very  dear  Mamma], — How  could  you  for  one  instant 
suppose  that  I  could  suspect  you  of  coldness  towards  me  ?  I 
was  quite  distressed  that  you  should  have  entertained  such  an 
idea,  and  had  I  followed  my  first  impulse  should  have  written 
at  once  to  tell  you  so  ;  but,  as  it  so  easily  happens  when  one 
is  newly  arrived  in  a  strange  place,  first  one  thing  and  then 
another  made  me  defer  writing,  till  at  last  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  stay  at  home  all  this  morning,  and  not  to  get  up  till  the 
letter  should  be  finished  ;  I  am,  however,  still  several  days  within 
my  month.  With  regard  to  my  health,  I  made  no  especial  men- 
tion of  it,  probably  because,  as  I  have  a  treatment  before  me 
when  I  get  to  Rome,  I  attached  little  importance  to  my  feelings 
in  this  state  of  interim  ;  however,  as  you  mention  it,  I  am 
happy  to  say  that  my  faceache  makes  its  appearance  decidedly 
less  often  than  it  did  in  Frankfurt,  and  that  my  eyes  seem  to 
me,  if  anything,  better  since  I  have  got  to  Italy.  One  thing  is 
certain,  and  that  is  that  my  spirits  are  very  much  improved  since 
I  have  got  back  to  the  dear  land  of  my  predilection  ;  I  felt 
it  as  soon  as  ever  I  arrived  in  Venice  ;  I  felt  a  heavy  cloud  roll 
away  from  over  me,  the  sun  burst  forth  and  shone  on  my  path, 
and  a  thousand  little  springs,  stifled  and  half-forgotten  fountains 
of  youth  and  joyousness,  gurgled  up  in  my  bosom  and  buoyed 
up  my  heart,  and  my  heart  bathed  in  them  and  was  glad — 
happy  Fred !  that  he  has  such  sources  of  joy  and  happiness ! 
Unlucky  Fred  !  for  he  will  never  be  able  to  live  but  where 
the  heavens  always  smile — and  where  he  can  economise  on 
umbrellas  ! 

I  have  had  many  happy  hours  within  the  last  three  weeks, 
but  I  think  that  the  happiest  time  of  all  was  the  afternoon  of 
our  descent  on  to  Florence  from  the  mountains  of  the  Romagna  ; 
even  the  morning  of  that  day  was  very  enjoyable,  for  although 
the  sky  was  murky   and   cross,  and  it  rained  as  far  as  you  could 


138  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

see,  yet  I  knew  that  that  very  evening,  in  that  very  coach,  I 
should  be  rattUng  along  the  streets  of  dear,  dear  Florence,  and 
that  bore  me  up,  and  I  made  light  of  the  rain,  and  whistled  out 
of  tune  in  order  to  take  off  the  wind,  who,  in  spite  of  his  fine 
voice,  has  certainly  no  ear  for  music.  Then,  too,  we  had  a  most 
amusing  coachman,  who  did  nothing  but  tell  stories  and  crack 
jokes  the  whole  time.  One  episode  is  worth  transcribing  :  "  Seen 
to-day's  paper,  sir  ?  "  (turning  sharply  round).  "  Well,  no  "  (says 
I);  "anything  in  it?"  "Ah!"  (says  he),  "very  interesting  cor- 
respondence from  the  moon."  The  article  seems  to  have  been 
as  follows :  "  Our  correspondent  in  the  moon  tells  us  of  rather  a 
discreditable  affair  which  has  just  taken  place  in  a  high  quarter. 
It  seems  that  the  other  night  St.  Peter,  having  spent  the  evening 
with  a  few  friends,  by  whom  he  was  entertained  with  the  distin- 
guished hospitality  which  his  high  position  entitled  him  to  expect, 
left  them  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  and,  in  short,  intoxica- 
tion, that  he  lost  his  way,  and  was  missing  at  his  post  till  ten 
o'clock  the  next  morning.  Unfortunately,  too,  he  had  taken  the 
keys  with  him.  About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  batch  of 
souls,  with  passports  for  heaven,  came  up  to  the  gates  and 
requested  admittance,  but  finding  all  knocking  in  vain,  they  were 
obliged  to  spend  the  night  behind  a  cloud  in  a  very  exposed 
situation,  which  was  made  doubly  disagreeable  by  their  having 
put  on  in  anticipation  the  very  slight  costume  habitually  worn 
in  the  abode  of  eternal  happiness  ;  several  severe  colds  were 
caught."  "  But  all  this,"  he  added  (mysteriously  producing  a  key 
from  his  waistcoat  pocket),  "  does  not  affect  me — letters,  you 
know,  despatches."  I  have  myself  subsequently  consulted  the 
papers  in  question,  and  find  that  St.  Peter,  in  the  confusion  of 
his  ideas,  had  taken  up  his  seat  at  the  other  Sublime  Porte,  and 
had  inadvertently  let  a  lot  more  Russians  into  the  Danubian 
Principalities.  So  the  papers  say.  However,  I  confess  that  I 
rather  question  the  whole  affair. 

I  close  with  the  old,  yet  ever  new  refrain.  Pray,  write  very 
soon  !  if  at  once,  to  Florence,  Poste  Restante  ;  if  not,  to  Rome, 
Poste  Restante. — With  very  best  love  to  all,  I  remain,  dearest 
Mamma,  your  dutiful  and  affectionate  son, 

Fred  Leighton. 


Portraits  of  Cimabue,  Giotto,  Simone  Mcmmi,  and  Taddeo  Gaddi, 
from  Fresco  in  Capella  Spagnola,  by  Taddeo  Gaddi.  Santa  Maria 
Novella,  Florence,  1853. 


fiii;;  vD  osbbfiT  yd  ,BlongBq2  sibqfiD  ni  odzsiH  moi'i 


__>\, 


JV'^f-  v■^^^  ' 


m  ' 


Q^:,k )-/: 


Y  y-' 


'"(i 


/ 


ROME 


139 


Bath,  August  13,  1854. 

My  dearest  Freddy, — We  are  delighted  to  know  you  are  out 
of  Rome,  for  it  is  possible  to  have  too  much  of  a  good  thing  ;  and 
much  as  you  delight  in  "  seeing  the  streets  flooded  with  light  and 
glittering  under  a  metallic  sky  "  (how  beautiful  it  must  be !),  the 
pure  air  of  the  country,  a  less  fierce  heat,  and  a  total  change  of 
scene,  will,  I  trust,  make  a  new  man  of  you.  How  long  a  holiday 
shall  you  take,  and  did  you  mean  that  you  are  staying  with  the 
Sartoris  family  as  a  visitor  ?  under  all  circumstances  you  will  be  a 
great  deal  with  them,  and  as  for  the  happiness  you  would  so  affec- 
tionately share  with  me,  I  would  not,  if  I  could,  deprive  you  of  a 
morsel  of  it  ;  you  are  enjoying  such  unusual  social  advantages  that 
it  is  a  solace  to  me  to  know  that  you  are  capable  of  appreciating 
them.  Thank  God,  you  have  no  taste  for  what  so  many  men  of 
your  age  call  pleasure,  and  that  in  spite  of  your  sociable  disposition, 
you  always  show  good  taste  in  the  choice  of  your  companions.     I 

wish  we  could  have  a   little   of  your  society.      The  are  still 

familiar  and  dear  friends,  but  their  minds  are  so  different,  so  con- 
ventional, that  many  sides  of  your  sisters'  minds  are  closed,  even 
to  them. 

The  next  letter  from  Leiofhton  to  his  mother  was  written 
after  he  returned  to  Rome  : — 


{On  cover — Mrs.  Leighton,! 

No.  9  Circus,  Bath,  England.) 


Rome,  Via  Felice  123, 

January  19,  1854. 

{.On  cover — Arrived  Jan.  6,  '54.) 


Dearest  Mamma, — When  I  received  your  long  expected  letter, 
which,  by-the-bye,  took  sixteen  days  reaching  me,  I  was  just 
winding  myself  up  to  write  and  tell  you  that  I  was  sorely  afraid 
some  letter  of  yours  must  have  been  lost  ;  I  need  hardly  tell  you 
that  I  was  relieved  of  a  considerable  anxiety  when  I  found  that 
all  was  right,  and  that  your  letter,  not  mine,  had  been  detained 
in  that  most  slovenly  of  all    institutions,  the   Roman  post. 

And  now  that  I  have  taken  up  my  pen,  what  a  quantity  I 
have  to  make  up  for  in  the  way  of  congratulations,  and  greet- 
ings,  and   good    wishes   relative   to   days   often    and   felicitously  to 


I40  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

recur  !  what  jolly  birthdays  loom  in  the  imagination,  what  Christ- 
mas Eves  and  Christmas  Days,  and  old  years  going  out  and  new 
ones  coming,  with  a  punctuality  never  known  to  fail !  Alas  !  that 
I  cannot  send  you  some  outward  and  visible  sign  of  my  inward 
sympathies  and  hearty  yearnings  ;  here  would  be  a  fine  oppor- 
tunity of  enumerating  an  extensive  catalogue  of  blessings  which 
I  sincerely  wish  to  see  showered  down  upon  you,  but  that  they 
can  all  be  returned  in  one  compendious,  all-embracing  word — 
Health  !  I  therefore  laconically  but  heartily  wish  you  all  that, 
positive  or  relative ;  and  this  leads  me  to  mine.  Well,  let  me 
confess  it  (unromantic  as  it  undoubtedly  is) ;  I  feel  there  is  no 
shirking  the  avowal  that,  stamping  all  things  down  into  an 
average,  and  squinting  at  little  annoyances,  I — must  I  say 
it? — am  about  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long:  may  my  happiness 
reflect  a  little  of  its  light  on  your  days,  dearest  and  best  of 
mothers !  I  have  begun  my  report  of  health  by  an  average  of 
my  spirits  ;  I  think  there  is  more  a  propos  in  this  than  one  might 
at  first  sight  imagine.  I  proceed  to  the  other  details  which  differ 
widely  from  your  probable  expectations  ;  you  ask  me  whether 
I  leech  myself  with  conscientious  regularity.  Now  I  don't  leech 
myself  at  all !  My  reason  for  abstaining  when  I  first  came  was 
that  I  feared  so  strong  a  measure  till  my  spectacles  should 
arrive  that  I  might  therewithal  screen  and  protect  my  exhausted 
blinkers.  It  is  only  the  other  day  that  the  said  barnacles  arrived, 
and  as  I  have  meanwhile  gone  on  working  day  after  day  without 
great  inconvenience  to  my  eyes,  1  really  think  I  might  do  myself 
more  harm  than  good  by  drawing  blood,  the  more  so  that  I 
am  by  no  means  a  person  of  full  habit  that  I  could  spare  much 
of  that  article. 

On  turning  to  your  letter,  I  find  the  next  point  you  touch  is 
my  music.  I  did  indeed  try  my  voice  at  the  Hodnett's  as  you 
anticipated,  but  unfortunately  I  never  by  any  chance  had  any- 
thing like  a  decent  note  in  my  voice  during  the  whole  time  that 
I  was  in  Florence  ;  indeed  at  the  very  best  of  times  it  is  the 
merest  "  fil  de  voix "  that  I  have,  which,  however,  would  not 
prevent  my  cultivating  it  for  my  own  private  enjoyment,  but  for 
a  circumstance  which  will  astound  you  perhaps,  but  is  neverthe- 
less a  great  fact — to  wit,  that   I   can't  afford  it !     The  expenses  of 


ROME  141 

my  pictures  are  far  too  considerable  to  allow  of  it  this  winter  \ 
next  winter  I  hope  to  make  up  for  lost  time  and  still  to  be  able 
to  chirp  some  little  ditty  when  I  once  more  skim  by  the  paternal 
nest.  A  piano  I  have,  such  a  hurdy-gurdy  !  I  fear,  alas  !  I  am 
an  inveterate  blockhead  ;  I  daily  lament  that  you  did  not  drub 
music  into  me  when  I  was  a  child  ;  I  should  then  have  broken 
my  fingers  in  time  ;  my  youngsters  shall  most  assuredly  learn  it 
with  a  stick  in  their  minds'  eye.     As  we  were  just  talking  of  the 

s,   I   must  mention  that   I   founded   my  opinion  less  on  what 

they  say  than  on  what  /  think  and  see  ;  they  could  not  either 
of  them  be  happy  if  they  could  not  have  their  bonnets  and  dresses 
from  the  most  fashionable  modiste,  turn  out  drag  of  their  own,, 
and  in  every  way  be  "the  thing"  ;  that  they  like  me,  I  know,  but 
I  believe  they  would  not  have  me  if  they  liked  me  twice  as  much  ; 
I  am  not  exactly  poor,  I  admit,  but  I  seem  something  like  it  in 
Florence,  where  it  is  the  custom  for  young  men  to  drive  to  the 
Cascine  in  elegant  broughams  or  phaetons,  to  find  their  riding- 
horses  at  the  round  piazza,  to  prance  and  amble  round  the  ladies, 
and  then  to  drive  home  again  in  the  style  they  went.  But  let  me 
speak  of  more  important  things  ;  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear 
that  my  compositions  have  been  highly  approved  of  by  all  those 
whose  opinion  has  weight  with  me.  Cornelius  said,  the  first  time 
he  saw  them,  "  Ich  sehe  Sie  sind  weiter  als  alle  Englander  ausge- 
nommen  Dyce ; "  that  is  a  great  compliment  from  such  a  man. 
I  have  made  one  alteration  in  my  plans,  of  which  Papa,  I  think,, 
will  not  disapprove  ;  I  found,  on  more  accurate  calculation,  that, 
in  order  to  paint  my  Cimabue  of  such  a  size  as  to  be  admissible 
to  the  London  Exhibition,  the  figures  would  be  far  smaller  than 
my  eyes  would  tolerate  ;  I  have  therefore  reversed  the  order  of 
things,  and  am  painting  it  on  a  large  scale  for  the  great  Exhibition 
in  Paris  (spring,  '55),  in  which  all  nations  are  to  be  represented, 
and  where  size  is  rather  a  recommendation  than  an  obstacle. 
My  "  Romeo  "  I  shall  send  to  London  in  the  same  year  ;  it  will 
be  a  foot  each  way  smaller  than  Lady  Cowley's  portrait ;  thus  I 
also  have  the  advantage  of  giving  the  Florentine  picture  a  size 
more  commensurate  to  the  art-historical  importance  of  the  event 
it  represents.  With  regard  to  the  sale  of  it,  I  hug  myself  with 
no  vain  delusions.     I   paint  it  for  a   name  ;    I   could  not  have  a 


142  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

finer  field  than  is  offered  by  the  great  International  Exhibition  in 
question.  I  must  come  to  a  close,  for  I  expect  a  model  imme- 
diately, and  do  not  wish  to  miss  to-morrow  morning's  post.  La 
suite  au  prochain   niinic'ro. 

Pray  write  soon,  dearest  mother,  and  tell  me  all  I  long  to 
know  about  yourselves,  the  house,  the  furniture,  your  friends,  and 
your  dinner-party  ;  meanwhile,  having  first  largely  helped  yourself, 
pass  up  to  all  the  dear  ones  very  best  love  and  kisses  from  your 
dutiful  and  affectionate  boy,  Fred   Leighton. 

{On  cover— ^rs.  Leighton,  ROME,  Via  Felice  123, 

9  Circus,  Bath,  England.)  March  22,  1854. 

{Received  March  31.) 

Dearest  Mamma, — As  I  see  no  chance  of  finding  time  to 
write  to  you  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things  by  merely  waiting  for 
it,  I  lay  down  my  brush  for  this  afternoon,  and  "  set  to  "  regularly 
pen  in  hand  to  answer  your  last,  dated  the  fifth  (let  us  be  business- 
like), but  which  did  not  reach  me  till  a  few  days  ago.  According 
to  the  egotistical  practice  which  you  have  wished  me  to  adopt, 
I  begin  with  an  account  of  myself :  I  am  very  much  at  a  loss 
to  tell  you  anything  of  my  eyes  that  shall  convey  to  you  a  correct 
idea  of  their  state  ;  one  thing  is  certain,  which  is  that  their  weak- 
ness bears  no  regular  proportion  to  the  work  done  ;  sometimes 
when  I  do  little  or  nothing  my  eyes  feel  uncomfortable,  and  at 
others,  when  I  do  a  great  deal,  I  suffer  nothing.  For  instance, 
yesterday,  having  a  great  deal  of  work  cut  out  for  the  day,  I 
worked  eleven  hours,  with  barely  half  an  hour's  respite  at  twelve, 
and,  pour  comble  de  mefaits,  I  did  what  I  rarely  venture  on — I  read 
at  night  ;  and  yet  I  feel  little  or  no  inconvenience.  The  fact 
is,  my  eyes  are  the  humble  servants  of  my  head,  which  is  par- 
ticularly sensitive  ;  at  the  same  time  I  hesitate  to  adopt  leeches 
(unless,  of  course,  Papa  adheres  to  his  opinion),  because  I  don't 
feel  as  if  I  were  over-troubled  with  blood  ;  what  do  you  think  ? 
My  otherwise  health  is,  thank  God,  very  decent.  I  am  not  a  robust 
man,  but  I  jog  on  very  comfortably,  and  feel  very  jolly,  and  I  am 
sure  I  have  a  good  many  reasons  to  be  so.  About  the  hours 
I  spend  inactive,  I  don't  feel  that  so  severely  as  I  did  last  winter, 
by   any  means  ;    in   the   first   place,  I    work   till   five   or   so   (from 


ROME  143 

seven  or  eight  in  the  morning),  then,  you  know,  I  dine  at  six, 
which  I  make  rather  a  long  job  ;  then,  in  the  evening,  instead 
of  tiring  my  eyes  as  I  did  last  winter  with  dancing,  which  I  have 
totally  forsworn  (there  are  more  "  whiches "  in  my  letter  than  in 
the  whole  tea-party  on  the  Blocksberg  in  "  Faust "),  I  spend  nearly 
all  my  time  at  the  house  of  my  dear  friends,  the  Sartoris,  where,  I 
assure  you,  to  pass  to  another  point  in  your  letter,  I  neglect  no 
opportunity  to  cultivate  my  poor  unlettered  mind.  It  is  indeed  my 
only  opportunity,  for  to  study,  alas,  I  have  neither  time,  health,  nor 
eyes,  and  the  hopes  to  which  you  allude,  and  which  I  myself  once 
entertained,  must,  I  fear,  be  given  up.  The  worst  feature  in  my 
mental  organisation  is  my  utter  want  of  memory  for  certain  things, 
a  deficiency  of  which  I  am  daily  and  painfully  reminded  by  the 
mention  in  my  presence  of  books  which  I  have  read  and  enjoyed, 
and  which  I  have  utterly  forgotten.  My  only  consolation  I  find 
in  the  hope  that  I  shall  be  able  to  devote  myself  with  double 
energy  to  the  art  "  proprement  dit,"  and  in  the  reflection  that 
hardly  any  of  the  modern  artists  (alas,  what  a  standard  !),  that  have 
possessed  extensive  knowledge  and  varied  accomplishments,  have 
had  them  as  a  super-addition  to  the  gift  of  art,  but  at  the  expense 
of  their  properly  pictorial  faculties  ;  to  every  man  is  dealt  a 
certain  amount  of  calibre — in  one  man's  brain  it  breaks  out  in  a 
cauliflower  of  variegated  bumps,  in  another's  it  flows  into  one 
channel  and  irrigates  one  mental  tree,  and  "sends  forth  fruit  in 
due  season  " — hem  !  Thus,  whilst  /  paint,  others  shall  know  all 
about  it  ;  /  shall  be  an  artist,  let  them  be  connoisseurs.  What 
did  poor  Haydon  (for  I  have  read  the  book)  get  by  his  mordant 
gift  of  satire  and  his  devouring  thirst  for  ink  ?  He  embittered 
old  enemies,  made  new  ones,  estranged  his  friends,  encouraged 
the  fierce  irascibility  of  his  own  temperament,  allowed  himself  to 
cuddle  the  phantoms  of  undeserved  neglect  which  always  haunted 
him,  distorted  his  own  perceptions,  and  cut  his  throat !  Without 
that  pernicious  gift,  Haydon  would  not  have  written,  the  Academy 
would  have  hung  his  pictures  as  they  deserved,  for  his  early  works 
were  full  of  promise,  they  would  have  stood  by  him  in  the  hour  of 
need  ;  had  everything  that  he  saw  and  heard  not  fallen  in  dis- 
torted images  on  the  troubled  mirror  of  his  mind,  he  would,  no 
doubt,   have   produced    better    works.       Haydon    might   have   been 


144  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD]  LEIGHTON 

a  happy  man  !  With  regard  to  the  practical  lesson  to  be  drawn 
by  myself,  this  painful  book  undoubtedly  shows  in  a  strong  light 
the  absurdity  of  always  painting  large  pictures — a  practice  in 
which,  I  assure  you,  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea  of  indulging. 
To  one  thing,  however,  which  you  observe,  dear  Mamma,  I  must 
beg  to  take  exception,  as  involving  a  very  important  question : 
you  say  Haydon  persisted  ni  following  the  historic  style,  to  the 
exclusion  of  pictures  of  a  saleable  size  ;  now  this  would  only 
avail  as  precedent  against  historical  art  on  the  supposition  that 
that  walk  necessarily  implies  colossal  proportions,  than  which  idea 
(though  Haydon  seems  to  have  entertained  it)  nothing  can  be  more 
false.  Is  it  necessary  to  mention  Raphael's  "  Vision  of  Ezekiel," 
<'  Madonna  della  Seggiola,"  or  a  thousand  other  pictures,  by  him 
and  others,  which  utterly  confute  any  such  notion  ?  But  even 
were  it  so,  we  must  also  not  overlook  the  fact  that  the  unsaleability 
of  Hay  don's  pictures  had  its  cause  as  much  in  their  quality  as  in 
their  quantity,  and  I  will  hold  up  to  you,  in  contrast  to  his  sad  story, 
the  case  of  Mr.  Watts,  who  gives  a  sketch  of  the  artistical  character 
at  the  end  of  the  autobiography,  and  who  has  as  many  orders  for 
fresco  as  he  can  execute  for  a  considerable  number  of  years. 

Bath,  April  17th. 

My  very  dear  Fred, — I  have  left  a  longer  interval  than  usual 
between  this  letter  and  my  last,  for  your  convenience  and  my 
advantage  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  by  arriving  close  on  the  time  for  your 
writing  to  me,  the  contents  of  this  sheet,  or  anything  in  it  needing 
comment,  may  not  have  escaped  your  memory  till  no  longer  wanted, 
for,  with  the  best  possible  wish  to  be  contented  with  the  epistles  for 
which  I  look  forward  so  anxiously,  I  cannot  help  feeling  a  little 
disappointed  when  you  do  not  answer  inquiries.  I  do  not  wish  to 
be  unreasonable,  my  darling,  in  my  demands  on  your  time,  but  I 
cannot  bear  that  your  letters  should  be  mere  unavoidable  monthly 
reports,  and  not  what  mine  are  to  you,  that  is,  in  intention  ;  though 
I  make  every  allowance  for  natural  infirmity.  Could  we  but  have 
foreseen  your  weakness  of  sight,  I  should  have  felt  a  great  inclina- 
tion to  thrash  you  into  exercising  your  memory  more  than  you  did, 
though  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  the  result  would  have  been  satis- 
factory ;  and  with  respect  to  music,  I  am  convinced  you  would  not 


/ 


STUDY  OF   HEAD  OF  WOMAN  AT  WINDOW  IN 

**CIMABUFS  MADONNA** 

Lcighton  House  Collection 


ROME  145 

have  made  a  satisfactory  return  for  any  knowledge  acquired  by  dint 
of  birch,  but — if  it  were  not  useless — I  would  enlarge  upon  the 
imprudence  of  having  neglected  your  father's  admonitions  at  a  more 
recent  period  to  store  your  memory  ;  remember  it  for  the  sake  of 
your  own  young  people  when  you  are  the  venerable  papa  of  an 
obstreperous  youth  like  yourself.  I  think  upon  the  whole  it  is 
satisfactory  that  the  uneasiness  in  your  eyes  depends  on  your 
general  health.  Papa  thinks  the  sensation  you  describe  when 
drinking  must  be  nervous,  and  connected  with  the  narrow  swallow 
you  inherit  from  me,  a  peculiarity  which  has  shown  itself  in  four 
generations.  We  do  not  feel  so  certain  as  it  would  be  comfortable 
to  do  that  the  climate  of  Rome  is  the  one  best  suited  to  a  nervous 
person  ;  but  of  course  you  will  seek  a  healthy  change  of  place  as 
soon  as  the  heat  makes  it  desirable.  I  must  remind  you  of  the 
unpleasant  fact  that  your  constitution  very  much  resembles  mine  ; 
remember  what  I  have  come  to,  and  do  not  trifle  with  yourself  ; 
do  not  say  to  yourself :  What  a  bore  Mamma  is !  I  am  con- 
stantly thinking  of  my  precious  absent  son,  and  long,  as  only  a 
mother  can,  to  see  you  ;  when  I  look  at  your  picture,  I  feel  quite 
wretched  sometimes  that  I  cannot,  though  you  seem  alive  before 
me,  stroke  your  cheek  and  lean  my  head  on  your  chest.  The  other 
day  we  were  startled  by  the  appearance  in  the  drawing-room  of 
Andrew,  Lizzy,  and  the  girls  ;  and  the  first  greeting  over,  "  That's 
my  saucy  Fred,"  burst  out  of  your  aunt's  mouth  ;  "  dear  fellow,  what 
a  likeness  ;  "  and  Lina  was  equally  admired,  and  we  all  agreed  in 
deploring  Gussy's  absence  from  the  wall.  I  wish  I  could  see  your 
studies,  for  I  suppose  you  have  a  great  many  for  your  great  under- 
taking. Models  are  probably  cheaper  than  in  Germany — are  you 
conscious  of  improvement  ?  This  seems  an  odd  question,  but  it  is 
suggested  by  the  fact  that  while  Gussy  practises  most  diligently,  she 
seldom  seems  conscious  of  the  improvement  I  perceive  distinctly. 
Do  you  see  Cornelius  from  time  to  time,  and  gain  anything  from 
him  ?  You  never  mention  if  you  have  any  friends  amongst  the 
artists  distinguished  in  any  way. 

Rome,  April  2g,  1854. 

I  have  of  late,  since  the  underpainting  of  my  large  picture  (at 
which   I  worked  like  a  horse)  given  myself  rest  and  recreation  in 
the  way  of  several   picnics  in  the  Campagna  under  the  auspices  of 
VOL.   I.  K 


146  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Mesdames  Sartoris  and  Kemble.  We  are  a  most  jovial  crew  ;  the 
following  are  the  dramatis  personce :  first,  the  two  above-mentioned 
ladies  ;  then  Mr.  Lyons,  the  English  diplomatist  here  (whom  your 
friend  probably  meant)  ;  he  is  not  ambassador,  nor  is  he  in  any  way 
supposed  to  represent  the  English  people  here,  he  is  only  a  sort  of 
negotiator  ;  however,  a  most  charming  man  he  assuredly  is,  funny, 
dry,  jolly,  imperturbably  good-tempered  ;  then  Mr.  Ampere,  a 
French  savant,  a  genial,  witty,  amusing  old  gentleman  as  ever  was  ; 
then  Browning,  the  poet,  a  never-failing  fountain  of  quaint  stories 
and  funny  sayings  ;  next  Harriet  Hosmer,  a  little  American  sculp- 
tress of  great  talent,  the  queerest,  best-natured  little  chap  possible  ; 
another  girl,  nothing  particular,  and  your  humble  servant  who, 
except  when  art  is  touched,  plays  the  part  of  humble  listener,  in 
which  capacity  he  makes  amends  for  the  vehemence  with  which  he 
starts  up  when  certain  subjects  are  touched  which  relate  to  his  own 
trade  ;  in  other  things,  silence,  alas  !  becomes  him,  ignorant  as  he 
is,  and  having  clean  forgotten  all  he  ever  knew  !  ^  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  leave  Rome  more  than  a  month  in  the  summer,  as  the  work 
which  I  have  carved  out  for  myself  makes  it  utterly  impossible. 
You  must  know,  however,  that  the  hot  months  (July  and  August) 
are  not  the  dangerous  ones,  but  September,  when  the  rains  set  in. 
During  that  month  I  shall  give  myself  a  complete  rest  from  work, 
and  shall  go  to  the  baths  of  Lucca,  the  healthiest  spot  in  Italy, 
where  I  shall  enjoy  cool  air,  country  scenery,  and,  better  than  all, 
the  society  of  the  Sartoris,  who  are  going  to  spend  the  summer 
there  ;  meanwhile,  I  shall  take  what  precautions  I  can  ;   I  shall  live 

^  This  modest  attitude  Leighton  took  as  listener  reminds  me  of  the  last  time  he 
saw  Browning.  One  afternoon  in  the  autumn  of  1888,  we  were  sitting  with  Leighton 
and  Browning  in  the  Kensington  studio.  Browning  showed  us  photographs  of  the 
Palazzo  Rezzonico  which  he  had  lately  given  to  his  son.  The  subject  turned  to  a  dis- 
cussion on  Byron  and  Shelley.  Often  as  I  had  heard  Browning  talk  well,  I  never 
heard  him  converse  so  well  as  he  did  on  that  afternoon.  It  was  no  monologue.  It 
was  real  conversation,  and  of  the  kind  that  inspires  others  to  do  also  their  best ;  but 
Leighton  never  uttered,  till — when,  after  an  hour  or  so,  we  rose  to  leave — he  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  don't  !  do  go  on,"  and  we  had  to  sit  down  again.  When  at  last  the  good  thing 
came  to  an  end,  Leighton  conducted  us  downstairs  to  his  door,  where  we  parted. 
Browning  waved  a  farewell  from  across  the  road,  where  he  stood  for  a  moment  in 
front  of  the  little  cottages,  while  Leighton  stood  in  the  porch-way  of  his  house.  The 
next  day  Browning  started  on  his  last  journey  to  Italy— to  die  in  the  Palazzo 
Rezzonico. 


ROME  147 

as  the  Italians  do,  getting  up  early,  and  sleeping  in  the  middle  of 
the  day,  and  shall  resume  flannel,  if  you  do  not  advise  the  contrary, 
as  I  see  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  a  great  preservative  against  fever. 
As  for  the  general  climate  of  Rome,  I  don't  give  it  much  considera- 
tion, as  there  is  not  the  least  probability  of  my  ever  residing  here  ; 
I  think  there  is  not  a  worse  place  for  a  rising  artist  to  set  up  his 
abode  in  than  Rome,  on  account  of  the  want  of  emulation  as  com- 
pared, for  instance,  to  a  place  like  Paris,  where  there  are  hundreds 
of  clever  men,  all  hard  at  work,  and  where  an  artist  is  always 
exposed  to  comparisons.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  give  you  any 
decisive  answer  about  my  progress,  for  you  know  I  have  been 
busy  all  the  winter  drawing  studies  ;  I  shall  see  when  I  come  to 
the  picture  itself  what  steps  I  have  made  forwards  ;  I  reckon  on 
its  being  the  best  thing  I  shall  have  done,  I  can  say  no  more.  I 
believe  Sartoris,  whose  judgment  in  all  the  arts  is  excellent,  con- 
siders me  the  most  promising  young  man  in  Rome  ;  but  that  does 
not  mean  much — we  shall  see  ! 

Of  my  daily  life  and  occupations,  I  have  little  or  nothing  to  say, 
as  they  are  monotonous  to  a  degree  ;  parties,  of  course,  have  ceased, 
and  I  am  just  about  to  leave  p.p.c.'s  everywhere,  as  I  don't  mean  to 
go  into  the  world  at  all  next  year.  I  don't  remember  whether  I 
told  you  that  some  little  time  back  Mrs.  Sartoris  gave  some  tableaux 
and  charades  in  which  your  humble  servant  co-operated  ;  the  whole 
thing  was,  I  believe,  very  successful.  The  greatest  treat  I  have  had 
lately  has  been  hearing  Mrs.  Kemble  read  on  different  occasions 
Julius  Caesar,  Hamlet,  and  part  of  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  ;  I 
need  not  tell  you  how  delighted  I  was. 

(Cc2/^r— Mrs.  Leighton,  RoME,  yT/ay  25,  1854. 

Circus,  Bath,  England.)  {Received June  5.) 

Very  dearest  Mamma, — Your  letter  (which  I  received  the 
day  before  yesterday,  and  should  have  answered  the  next  day 
but  for  an  engagement  I  had  made  to  go  into  the  country)  caused 
me  great  pain  ;  if  you  have  known  me  hitherto  for  a  dutiful  and 
loving  son,  believe  that  in  this  case  nothing  has  been  further  from 
me  than  the  least  umbrage  at  the  advice  and  suggestions  that  you 
always  offer  me  with  kindness  and  delicacy,  and  that  I  am  much  dis- 
tressed at  the  idea  of  having  in  any  way  aggravated  the  discomforts 


148  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 

which  an  English  winter  make  you  suffer  ;  let  me  rather  attribute, 
and  beg  yourself  to  refer,  to  the  depressed  state  of  your  spirits 
any  misconstruction  you  have  laid  upon  a  letter  in  which,  if  there 
was  any  constraint,  it  arose  only  from  a  desire  to  answer  satis- 
factorily and  systematically  such  questions  as  you  asked  me  ;  I 
will  endeavour  in  future  to  present  my  report  in  a  more  orna- 
mental form.  The  delay,  too,  of  my  last  letter  arose  from  a 
misconception  on  my  part  of  your  expectations,  for  I  was  waiting 
and  eagerly  waiting  for  your  answer  to  intervene,  and,  considering 
the  irregularity  of  Roman  posts,  you  can  hardly  have  a  day  on 
which  you  particularly  expect  to  receive  news  of  me.  Let  me 
hope,  dear  Mamma,  that  on  these  points,  as  on  the  others  that 
I  am  going  to  touch,  you  will  be  able  in  future  to  think  more 
cheerfully,  in  spite  of  the  distorting  medium  of  British  fogs.  I 
fear  from  the  tone  of  alarm  I  detect  in  your  letter  that  I  (myself 
perhaps,  at  the  time,  under  the  influence  of  the  sctrocco)  must 
have  conveyed  to  you  an  idea  of  greater  ill-health  than  I  labour 
under  :  my  eyes,  certainly,  are  not  strong,  so  that  I  avoid  using 
them  at  nights,  and  I  am,  as  I  ever  was,  incorrigibly  bed-loving, 
but  this  is  "the  whole  front"  of  my  ailments;  meanwhile  I  work 
all  day  with  little  or  no  annoyance.  I  am  of  good  cheer  and 
contented,  and  altogether  more  free  from  rheumatism  than  I  have 
been  for  a  long  time  ;  that,  thus  deprived  of  the  means  of  reading, 
such  little  information  as  I  ever  had  should  have  effectually  made 
its  escape  from  a  noddle  that  never  had  the  capacity  of  fixing 
itself  on  any  one  thing  at  a  time,  is  deplorable,  but  not  to  be 
wondered  at  ;  let  us  hope  for  a  better  day.  Nor  is  spending  the 
hot  months  of  the  summer  here  in  Rome  so  dreadful  a  thing  as 
it  appears  to  your  tender  anxiety  ;  with  proper  precautions  and 
a  regular  life  I  shall  no  doubt  go  through  it  as  well  as  so  many 
of  my  friends  that  have  tried  the  experiment  ;  the  more  so  that 
the  worst  part  of  the  summer  is  in  September  and  early  October, 
at  which  period  I  shall  be  enjoying  the  particularly  cool  and 
healthy  air  of  Bagni  di  Lucca.  How  could  you  be  surprised, 
dear  Mamma,  at  my  having  begun  the  pictures  ?  did  I  not  tell 
you  the  size  of  them  ?  do  you  not  know  the  quantity  of  figures 
in  the  composition  ?  do  you  not  know  that  it  will  be  considered 
a   piece    of   extraordinary   rapidity   if   I   finished   them  in  time   for 


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ROME  149 

the  Exhibitions,  i.e.  by  the  beginning  of  next  February  ?  You  per- 
ceive the  necessity  of  my  staying  here,  willy  nilly.  The  Sartoris 
seem  to  you  too  prominent  a  motive  in  my  desire  to  stay  ;  alas  ! 
and  again  alas  !  they  are  off  to  Lucca  in  a  few  days,  and  I  shall 
be  left  alone.  Judge  whether  I  am  eager  to  get  off,  and  whether 
anything  but  necessity  of  the  most  urgent  kind  will  keep  me 
here,  for  I  am  warmly  attached  to  both,  and  her  I  dearly  love. 
Be  quite  at  ease  about  the  amount  of  advice  I  can  get  here,  I 
do  not  lack  that  if  I  want  it  ;  but  as  it  is,  the  compositions  were 
so  completely  sifted  by  Steinle  before  I  left  Frankfurt,  that  I 
have  nothing  left  but  the  material  execution,  in  which  you  know 
every  artist  must  fumble  about  for  himself.  CorneUus  is  very 
kind  and  amiable  to  me,  has  been  to  see  me  twice,  and  speaks 
well  of  me  behind  my  back  ;  he  told  Mrs.  Kemble  (Fanny)  that 
there  was  not  another  man  in  England  that  could  paint  such  a 
picture  as  my  "  Cimabue "  threatens  to  be,  and  the  same  was 
unhesitatingly  asserted  by  Browning,  the  poet,  who  is  also  a 
connoisseur.  Such  details  as  these  from  my  mouth  savour  of 
intolerable  vanity  ;  they  are  not  meant  so,  and  I  give  you  them 
simply  because  I  think  they  will  fall  pleasantly  on  the  ear  of  the 
mother  of  the  daubster.  To  show  you  the  revers  de  la  medaille 
about  advice  from  influential  men,  I  will  just  tell  you  that  I 
received  the  other  day  from  Cornelius  some  advice  which  was 
diametrically  opposed  to  that  of  Steinle,  arratigez  vous  I  Gamba 
and  I  are  still  capital  friends,  and  he  is  making  great  progress, 
which  is  the  well-earned  fruit  of  his  talent  and  assiduity. 

Now,  dear  Mamma,  you  see  how  letters  come  to  be  dry; 
by  the  time  you  have  shaken  off  the  responsibility  of  question 
answering,  and  begin  to  breathe  a  little,  you  have  got  to  the  end 
of  time  and  paper,  and  have  no  margin  left  for  a  little  dessert  ; 
the  fact  is,  your  only  chance  is  this :  next  time  you  write,  ask 
me  no  questions,  and  then  I'll  devote  my  epistle  to  telling  you 
a  most  thrilling  story  which,  though  it  far  surpasses  in  strange- 
ness the  common  run  of  works  of  fiction,  is  perfectly  and  literally 
true,  as  I  have  it  almost  from  headquarters  ;  them's  your  prospects  ! 
— Meanwhile,  with  very  best  love  to  all,  I  remain,  your  affectionate 
and  dutiful  son,  Fred  Leighton. 


150  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

Translation.]  Rome,  Via  Felice  123, 

May  29,   1 8  54. 

Dearest  P'riend, — Delightful  as  it  always  is  to  me  to  re- 
ceive any  news  of  you,  yet  your  last  letter,  along  with  pleasure, 
caused  me  some  pain,  for  I  could  not  help  fearing  that  my  long 
silence  had  annoyed  you  a  little  ;  if  this  should  be  indeed  the  case 
I  must  express  my  extreme  regret,  and  beg  you  to  believe  that  my 
gratitude  and  love  can  only  cease  when  my  memory  ceases  ;  how 
could  it  possibly  be  otherwise  ? 

You  paint  me  a  very  melancholy  picture  of  the  situation  in  Frank- 
furt; it  is  certainly  a  most  unpleasant  state  of  things,  all  this  quarrel- 
ling and  dissension!  When  I,  at  this  distance,  think  of  such  a  regular 
hermit-like  way  of  going  on,  I  feel  quite  disgusted  ;  it  is  fortunate 
that  you,  dear  Friend,  have  in  the  ecstasy  of  creation  a  resource  that 
can  never  fail  you.  But  how  comes  it  that  Hommel  and  Hendschel, 
formerly  your  enthusiastic  pupils,  have  now  cooled  down?  That  is 
very  incomprehensible  ;  they  do  not  know  their  own  interests.  I 
congratulate  you  most  heartily  on  the  completion  of  your  large 
picture,  which  I  am  very  sorry  not  to  have  seen  finished,  and 
I  am  especially  glad  to  hear  what  you  tell  me  about  the  shield- 
bearer,  for  that  breathes  to  me  of  industrious  study  of  nature ! 
Believe  me,  that  you,  the  mature  master,  who  still  consents  to 
play  the  part  of  a  student,  will  not  be  without  your  reward. 

What  you  have  written  me  about  my  work  has  put  me  into 
a  most  terrible  dilemma,  a  dilemma  which  I  am  still  very  deep 
in.  It  is  a  presumption  that  I  should  set  up  my  ideas,  and  a 
disobedience  that  I  should  take  the  advice  of  other  friends,  against 
your  judgment ;  but  I  have  gone  so  carefully  into  this  manner 
of  representation,  that  I  beg  you,  dear  Friend,  to  reconsider  the 
matter,  and  see  whether  I  am  not  right.  These  are  my  reasons  : 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  action  in  my  pictures,  if  ostensibly  a 
triumph  of  the  artist,  yet,  at  the  same  time,  as  an  historical 
event,  is  just  as  much  the  consecration  of  a  Madonna,  for  which 
reason  I  (as  you  know)  have  placed  the  masterpiece  which  is 
being  carried  upon  a  small  decorated  altar  ;  that  such  a  solemn 
event  probably  took  place  on  a  church  festival  (as  was  the 
case  with  the  consecration  of  the  Chapel)  may  very  well  be 
assumed ;    would   not  such   a  festival    in    the   thirteenth  century  be 


ROME  1 5 1 

important  enough  to  justify  the  presence  of  the  bishop  ?  But 
much  more  important  than  this  question  of  historical  probabiUty, 
appears  to  me  the  consideration  that  the  conception  of  a  bishop 
is  only  made  tangible  to  the  general  mass  of  spectators  by 
certain  symbolic  articles  of  apparel,  which  are  in  some  degree 
inseparable  from  it  ;  a  bishop's  presence  in  the  procession  is  most 
probable.  Why  should  I  not  put  him  there  ?  Amongst  others,  this 
opinion  was  also  held  by  Cornelius,  to  whom,  as  an  experienced 
Catholic,  I  naturally  applied  at  the  outset,  and  who  told  me  candidly 
that  he  would  leave  it.  I  hope  you  will  not  accuse  me  of  being  too 
stiffnecked  ;  in  other  respects  I  am  certainly  docile. 

Since  I  last  wrote  to  you  I  have  been  fairly  industrious  on 
an  average.  I  have  now  under-painted  "Romeo  and  Juliet"  in 
grey  (grau  untermalt),  made  both  the  colour  sketches,  and  have 
now  fairly  got  into  the  over-painting,  or  rather  second  under- 
painting,  of  "  Cimabue  "  ;  but  I  have  not  been  always  within  four 
walls ;  on  the  contrary  I  have  profited  by  the  beautiful  spring 
weather,  and  have  often  gone  out  into  the  divine  Campagna 
with  a  party  of  dear  friends,  male  and  female,  and  I  need  not 
tell  you  that  we  have  enjoyed  it.  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  you 
could  be  with  us,  my  dear  Master.  Rico,  the  ever-industrious, 
for  he  does  twice  as  much  as  I,  sends  you  warm  greetings.  I  must 
now  close.  I  wish  I  could  tell  rather  than  write  to  you  how  you  are 
loved  and  esteemed  by  your  devoted  pupil,        Fred  Leighton. 

Please  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife. 

Translation.']  Frankfurt  am  Main, 

August  6,  1854. 

My  very  dear  Friend, — You  have  heaped  coals  of  fire 
upon  my  head,  for  I  have  not  answered  your  last  dear  note, 
brought  me  by  Andre,  and  now  I  have  received  by  Miss 
Farquhar  the  lovely  study  of  Vincenzo's  head,  which  you  so 
kindly  wish  to  present  to  me.  I  am  almost  dumfounded  to  find 
that  you  could  believe  I  was  angry  with  you  because  you  have 
not  written  me  for  so  long,  and  that  you  believe  that  the  indig- 
nation had  been  ignored  in  my  last  note.  That,  dear  friend, 
was  a  complete  delusion,  for  there  is  nothing  to  which  I  am 
more  partial   than   to  artists'    letters,   and   nothing  to  which   I  am 


152  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

more  insensible  than  to  such  flattering  praise  as  you  lavish  upon 
me,  while  I  know  only  too  well  how  unfortunately  little  I  have 
deserved  it.  In  earnest,  dear  friend,  call  me  no  more  master, 
but  rather  regard  me  as  your  true  and  sincere  friend,  who  only 
out  of  friendship  for  you  and  love  of  art,  far  removed  from 
despicable  dissimulation,  faithfully  shares  with  you  his  opinions 
and  experience,  and  never  regards  them  as  the  pronouncements 
of  an  oracle.  I  know  very  well  what  a  difference  there  is 
between  the  description  of  a  work  of  art  and  the  sight  of  it  ; 
the  first,  at  best,  only  gives  one  side,  one  part,  whilst  seeing 
places  before  our  eyes  the  whole  soul  of  the  artist,  from  all  sides, 
and  then  much  is  made  mutually  clear  which  in  the  former  case 
appeared  either  not  understood  or  misunderstood.  Miss  Farquhar 
could  not  tell  me  enough  about  you  and  your  work,  and  greatly 
kindled  my  curiosity  and  desire  to  be  in  your  atelier  for  once  ; 
I  was  only  sorry  that  she  had  nothing  to  tell  me  about  Gamba  ; 
indeed,  on  the  whole,  she  knew  nothing  about  him.  If  I  am 
to  express  my  thoughts  of  the  very  beautiful  head  of  Vincenzo, 
it  seems  to  me  that  Leighton  ought  to  guard  against  striving  for 
excessive  fineness,  for  works  of  art  can  only  be  produced  by 
quite  the  contrary  method.  A  certain  roughness  must  bring 
out  fineness,  but  if  everything  is  fine,  nothing  remains  fine,  &c. 
But  believe,  though  this  head  half  displeases  me,  especially  on 
account  of  these  theories,  I  think  it  beautiful  and  masterly  in  draw- 
ing, and  am  consequently  proud  to  possess  it,  as  I  am  of  all  that 
I  have  from  your  hand.  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times  for 
this  fresh  proof  of  your  friendship.  About  this  place,  let  me 
be  silent  ;  you  are  right  to  say  that  art  is  my  refuge,  and  that  I 
find  in  it  my  compensation  for  much  that  goes  ill  here  and 
everywhere  ;  I  must  also  not  allow  this  asylum  to  be  profaned  by 
the  trifles  of  the  very  human  things  that  surround  us  in  this  world. 

Greet  from  me  Rome,  Gamba,  Cornelius,  and  all  the  friends  who 
remember  me  ;  and  to  yourself,  dear  friend,  heartfelt  greetings  from 
your  true  and  unchanging  friend,  Edw.  Steinle. 

Before  leaving  Rome  Leighton  received  the  following  char- 
acteristic letter  from  Mr.  Cartwright,  one  of  his  truest  life-long 
friends  : — 


"VINCENZO,  THE  PRETTIEST  AND  WICKEDEST  BOY 

IN  ROME/*     1854 
Leighton  House  Collection 


^^Qi     **.HM05I  VII 
nobosIloD  S£ 


ROME  153 

Carlsbad, /«/)/  u,  1854, 
My  dear  Leighton, — You  will  be  astonished  to  see  a  letter 
from  me.  I  can  assure  you  that  I  have  often  thought  of  you,  and 
meant  to  indite  you  an  epistle  in  the  hope  of  eliciting  a  reply  full 
of  Roman  tale  from  you,  and  lately,  when  through  Papeleu  I  heard 
of  your  great  canvass  labors,  my  yearning  got  a  new  twinge  which 
at  last  has  been  pinched  into  expression  by  the  start  at  Pollock's 
resuscitation,  I  had  heard  of  his  death  in  Paris  and  had  mourned 
his  fate  most  sincerely,  when  the  first  man  whom  I  met  tramping 
health  out  of  the  hot  water  of  Carlsbad  was  Pollock  himself.  He 
is  himself  again  every  inch  of  him  ;  indeed  a  most  wonderful  re- 
covery ;  and,  after  deep  and  volorous  potations  of  hot  water,  we 
take  long  walks  in  the  hills.  He  goes  from  here  to  Marienbad  and 
Prague,  and  means  to  be  back  in  Rome  by  the  end  of  October. 
And  I  also  mean  to  return  there.  Like  a  true  drunkard,  I  can't 
forswear  my  bottle,  and  I  must  have  another  pull  at  it.  We  shall 
be  there,  I  hope,  in  the  beginning  of  October,  and  I  hope,  my  dear 
Leighton,  that  you  will  not  grudge  me  the  pleasure  of  letting  me 
have  a  few  lines,  so  that  I  may  know  whether  you  will  be  there  in 
the  winter  and  what  are  the  changes  in  Rome  since  my  time.  Are 
the  Sartorises  to  be  there  next  winter,  and  where  are  they  now  ? 
Pray  answer  me  this,  as  I  particularly  wish  to  know  where  they  are. 
I  have  heard  that  there  were  such  crowds  of  strangers  at  Rome  last 
winter  that  quarters  were  not  to  be  had  ;  and  for  this  reason  I  wish 
to  be  there  early.  Do  you  happen  to  know  what  is  the  price  of 
the  floors  in  the  house  on  the  Pincio  which  was  built  by  Bystrom 
the  sculptor.  Next  to  the  Trinita,  immediately  after  the  sculptor's 
studio,  there  is  a  small  house  inhabited  when  I  was  last  in  Rome  by 
some  French  officers  (at  least  a  sentinel  was  at  the  door)  and  years 
ago  by  Mrs.  Sartoris.  Pollock  tells  me  it  is  now  to  be  let.  Would 
you  be  kind  enough  to  give  me  any  information  you  can  about  it. 
It  is  a  house  I  have  often  coveted  on  account  of  the  view.  I  beg 
your  pardon  for  my  coolness  ;  I  hope  you  will  bear  kindly  with  it  ; 
if  I  can  do  anything  for  you  in  Paris,  command  me :  but  anyhow 
pray  write  to  me,  if  only  a  few  lines,  for  in  my  heart  I  wish  to  have 
some  news  about  you  and  old  Rome.  The  other  day  I  saw  at  the 
Louvre  our  old  friend  the  very  questionable  Vittoria  Colonna  which 
was    at    Minardis.       It    was    for    Exhibition   there    in    the   Gallerie 


154  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

d'ApoUon  :  what  the  picture  is  I  cannot  pretend  to  pronounce,  but 
I  do  not  Hke  it :  it  is  a  picture  in  which  I  have  no  confidence.  I 
think  that  if  not  a  made  picture,  it  is  at  all  events  a  tame  one.  This 
year  there  was  no  Salon  as  it  has  been  put  off  till  next  year's  great 
Exhibition.  Robert  Fleury  has  sold  a  picture  to  the  Luxembourg 
which  is  not  so  good  as  his  former  ones  ;  but  the  man  who  I  think 
is  the  most  marked  one  of  the  day  is  Couture.  Excuse  my  scrap, 
and  pray  take  pity  on  my  longing  and  write  me,  were  it  only  a  line. 
I  should  be  grievously  disappointed  were  you  to  refuse  me  the 
pleasure.  I  shall  be  here  till  the  yth  August;  until  the  2^th  August, 
after  that  date  letters  will  find  me  Frankfurt  Poste  Restante  ;  and 
after  that  in  Paris  Poste  Restante.  If  you  write  here,  put  Carlsbad 
— Bohmen — and  in  a  corner,  Austria.  And  now  farewell  ;  with  a 
real  ...  I  am  longing  for  a  letter.  The  kindest  regards  to  my 
Caffe  Greco  and  other  friends. — Yours  most  sincerely, 

W.  C.  Cartwright.^ 

After  his  stay  at  the  Bagni  di  Lucca,  in  the  summer  of 
1854,  Leighton  went  to  Frankfort,  Venice,  and  to  Florence, 
returning  to  Rome  in  October. 

In  the  following  letter  to  Steinle  are  sentences  it  might 
be  well  to  print  in  finest  gold,  for  the  benefit  of  students  who 
try  to  run  before  they  walk,  who  aim  at  the  freedom  and 
glorious  inevitability  of  a  Velasquez  touch  without  taking  the 
pains  to  equip  themselves  worthily  to  enter  the  lists  with  the 
giants ;  not  realising  that  skipping  over  the  underpinning, 
necessary  in  creating  any  work  of  art,  must  result  in  the 
shakiest  of  edifices.  The  sentence  refers  to  the  criticism 
in  Steinle's  letter  of  August  6,  1854,  on  the  drawing  of 
"Vincenzo"  (called  by  Leighton  "the  prettiest  and  wicked- 
est boy  in  Rome ")  which  Leighton  had  sent  him. 

1  Another  old  friend  of  Leighton's,  Mr.  Hamilton  Aide,  writes:  "My  journal 
1854-55-56  contains  frequent  notices  of  our  excursions  and  long  days  spent  on  the 
Campagna,  and  on  the  hill-sides  near  the  Bagni  di  Lucca,  where  we  took  out  food 
for  mind  and  will  as  well  as  for  the  body,  and  sketched  while  one  of  our  party  read 
aloud — and  also  of  many  Tableaux  at  Rome,  devised  by  him  (Leighton)  to  suit  the 
colouring,  character,  and  grace  of  certain  noble  ladies." 


ROME  155 

Translation.]  Rome,  Via  Felice  123, 

October  22,  1854. 

As  I  am  making  a  short  pause  to-day  in  my  work,  I  cannot 
employ  it  better  than  in  writing  a  letter  to  you,  my  very  dear 
Friend.  It  was  a  very  great  comfort  to  me  to  see  by  your  last  lines 
that  you  had  not  construed  my  former  long  silence  as  a  cooling 
of  my  friendship  and  gratitude,  and  I  therefore  hope  that  you 
will  also  this  time  meet  me  with  the  same  forbearance.  You 
will  certainly  be  interested  to  hear,  my  dear  Friend,  that  both 
my  pictures  are  by  this  time  fairly  forward,  and  I  expect  to 
finish  them  within  three  months.  How  much  I  wish  that  you 
could  see  them  here,  and  that  I  could  put  in  the  finishing  touches 
under  your  supervision !  1  would  give  you  an  account  of  my 
work,  but,  bless  me,  what  is  there  to  tell  about  my  picture,  except 
that  it  has  given  me  a  fearful  amount  of  trouble,  and  that  in 
the  end  one  perceives  how  circumstantially  one  has  gone  to 
work  on  the  whole  matter ;  the  "  Cimabue "  goes  to  London 
and  the  "  Romeo  "  to  Paris.  While  I  am  speaking  of  my  works, 
I  take  this  opportunity  to  touch  gratefully  upon  your  kind 
remarks  about  the  study  head  of  Vincenzo,  and  to  inform  you, 
however,  that  my  opinion  of  it  takes  rather  more  the  form  of 
a  question  than  that  of  an  objection.  I  have  often  considered 
the  question  of  the  self-guidance  of  an  artist  who  is  left  to  his 
own  devices,  and  it  has  often  struck  me  how  many  wander  in 
evil  by-paths  through  an  unorganised,  may  I  say  unprogressive, 
development  of  their  gifts  ;  and  now  it  seems  to  me  that  most 
of  them  are  wrecked  because  they  maturely  study  the  object  to 
be  attained^  while  the  means  are  not  considered  which  should 
lead  to  such  results.  For  example,  a  young  man  sees  a  Raphael, 
a  Titian,  a  Rembrandt,  all  in  their  latest  manner,  and  hears  people 
say  :  See  how  broad,  how  full,  how  round,  how  masterly  !  And 
the  student  naturally  conceives  the  wish  that  he  also  might 
produce  broad  and  masterly  works,  and  so  far  he  is  right  ;  but 
from  that  point  he  goes  aside.  He  goes  home  and  strives  and 
strains  after  masterly  breadth ;  he  succeeds  (apparently),  and  he 
is  lost.  The  soap-bubble  is  quickly  blown  ;  he  rejoices  in  its  gay 
colours ;  it  flies  up  and  breaks  in  the  air.  And  the  cause  is 
simple  ;    the   true,    genuine    mastership    is   not    an    acquired   quality 


156  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

but  an  organised  result.  As  with  art  itself,  so  is  it  also  with  the 
individual  artist.  If  we  cast  an  eye  over  the  progress  of  art- 
history,  we  see  how  the  full,  conscious,  free,  has  developed  itself 
out  of  the  meagre,  timorous,  scrupulous,  dry.  Similarly  if  we 
compare  the  first  efforts  of  the  individual  with  his  last,  we 
perceive  the  same  thing :  place  M.  Angelo's  "  Pinta "  beside  the 
decorations  of  the  Sixtine,  one  of  Raphael's  works  at  Perugia 
beside  the  "  Stanzen,"  Rembrandt's  "  Le^on  d'anatomie "  beside 
the  "  Nightwatch,"  and  it  will  be  evident  in  the  most  striking 
manner  that  not  one  of  these  men  had  risen  by  means  of  his 
talent  to  full  breadth  in  his  youth,  or  had  been  in  any  way 
studious  to  do  so,  but  on  the  contrary  that  they  have  attained 
mastery  by  natural  growth.  In  order,  therefore,  to  reach  the 
same  altitude,  the  young  artist  must  proceed  in  the  same  manner 
as  his  exemplars,  and  must  endeavour  so  to  direct  his  studies 
that  he,  according  to  his  gifts,  may  achieve  a  similar  result.  He 
who  would  fill  his  threshing-floor  must  not  glean,  but  rather  he 
must  sow  that  he  may  richly  harvest  ;  he  who  would  have  rare 
fruits  all  his  life  must  plant  and  cherish  the  tree ;  even  so  should 
the  young  artist  seek  to  plant  a  tree  the  normal  fruit  of  which 
is  called  "artistic  perfection."  You  will  easily  understand  how 
by  the  application  of  these  maxims  my  preliminary  works  go 
forward  rather  timorously.  Entire  conscientiousness  is  now  the 
chief  thing  to  me.  I  am  laying  the  foundation  on  which  I  hope 
to  rely  firmly  later  on ;  I  am  amassing  capital  and  am  not  yet 
in  enjoyment  of  the  interest.  "  How  many  objections  to  a  couple 
of  words  ? "  you  will  laughingly  remark  ;  dear  Friend,  I  must  feel 
myself  indeed  well  equipped  before  I  permit  myself  to  oppose 
anything  against  your  judgment. 

Of  Gamba  I  will  say  nothing,  for  he  is  going  to  enclose  a 
few  lines  in  this. 

I  have  made  a  trip  to  Florence  this  summer,  and  again' 
thoroughly  enjoyed  the  art-treasures.  I  think  I  have  spoken  to 
you  of  the  wall-paintings  by  Giotto  which  were  discovered  two 
years  ago  in  Santa  Croce  ;  one  of  them,  which  represents  the 
death  of  St.  Francis,  is  the  literal  prototype  of  the  celebrated 
fresco  by  Ghirlandajo  (on  the  same  subject)  in  the  Sta.  Trinita, 
and   I   really  prefer  it. 


ROME  i^y 

Time,  eyes,  paper  fail  me,  and  I  must  close.  I  hope  that,  if 
you  write  to  me  again,  you  will  tell  me  exactly  what  you  are 
doing. — Meantime,  dear  Master,  accept  the  heartfelt  greeting  of 
your  grateful  pupil,  Fred   Leighton. 

Please  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife  and  to  all 
my  friends. 

Leighton's  eye  trouble  having  become  a  constant  anxiety 
and  hindrance  to  him,  he  resolved  to  consult  Graefe,  the 
great  German  oculist.  From  Florence,  on  his  return  journey, 
he  writes  his  impressions  of  Berlin  to  Steinle.  In  this  letter 
he  repeats  again  the  sense  of  happiness  which  he  always 
experienced  in   Italy. 

Translation.^ 

Florence,  386  Via  del  Posso, 
November  13. 

My  very  dear  Friend  and  Master, — At  last  I  am  able  to 
write  to  you.  In  the  hurry  and  bustle  of  travelling,  and  even 
in  the  short  sojourns  that  I  have  made  here  and  there,  it  has 
been  impossible  for  me  to  sit  quietly  down  and  compose  a  letter. 
Even  to  my  parents  I  have  written  this  morning  for  the  first 
time  since  I  left  Vienna.  But  you  will  readily  believe  that 
during  this  time  I  have  often  travelled  in  thought  to  Frankfurt 
in  loving  remembrance  of  you,  my  dear  Friend. 

Strange  things  have  happened  to  me  since  I  saw  you.  I  had 
not  even  reached  Berlin  when  I  was  informed  by  a  "  jebildeten  " 
(cultivated)  Prussian  that  Graefe,  on  whose  account  exclusively  I 
was  travelling  to  the  "  geistreichen "  (clever)  capital,  had  gone 
away  for  an  indefinite  period  ;  imagine  my  dismay  !  Luckily  on 
my  arrival  I  found  an  old  friend  who  was  acquainted  with  the 
family  of  Geheimerath  von  Graefe,  and  who  found  out  through 
them  that  Graefe  must  arrive  at  the  Golden  Lamb  (Leopoldostadt) 
in  Vienna  on  such  and  such  a  day.  I  met  him,  and  had  a 
consultation  at  which  he  examined  my  eyes  with  the  ophthal- 
moscope, and  told  me  to  be  of  good  cheer,  my  trouble  was 
certainly  obstinate   but    in    no   way  dangerous,   and   I    might   hope 


158  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

for  a  complete  cure.  He  prescribed  me  a  course  for  Rome, 
which  consists  principally  of  local  blood  -  letting  and  wearing 
spectacles,  and  will  be  very  tedious  ;  but  I  will  gladly  conform 
to  anything  in  order  to  get  my  eyes  back  again.  One  thing  is 
certain,  since  I  have  been  in  Italy  they  have  been  quite  markedly 
better,  which  I  attribute  for  the  most  part  to  the  diminution  of 
my  hypochondria.  Yes,  since  I  have  been  in  Italy  I  have  become 
a  new  man  ;  I  breathe,  my  breast  throbs  higher  ;  heavy  clouds 
have  rolled  away  from  me  ;  the  sun  shines  again  on  my  path, 
and  my  heart  is  once  more  full  of  youth  and  love  of  life  ;  if 
only  you  were  also  here,  dear  Friend  ! 

But  I  must  tell  you  something  about  my  German  travels, 
and  I  will  begin  with  Berlin.  There  is  certainly  something 
special  about  that  town.  At  the  first  glance  it  is  somewhat 
imposing,  and  the  prodigious  quantity  of  new  buildings,  which 
evidently  aim  at  architecture,  gives  (one  may  hold  one's  own 
opinion  as  to  the  taste  of  the  buildings)  the  appearance  of  great 
artistic  activity  and  of  a  widespread  taste  for  art  ;  but  I  have 
since  found  reason  to  regard  this  apparent  love  of  art  as  some- 
thing feigned  or  forced.  One  gets  quite  sick  of  education  in 
Berlin  ;  would  you  believe  that  now  every  girl  has  to  pass  an 
examination  as  governess  ?  ^  Kaulbach  understands  the  Berliners  well ; 
in  Raeginski's  house  a  study  of  a  Roman  piper  hangs  in  great 
honour,  which  he  has  purchased  from  the  great  master  on  account 
of  a  doggerel  verse  which  is  written  on  it  in  large  letters,  and 
runs  thus : — 

"Upon  my  travels  in  Italy, 
This  little  boy  I  found,  but  he, 
Although  my  brush  may  his  form  repeat, 
Remains  to  my  sorrow  incomplete."  ^ 

— W.  Kaulbach. 


^  It  appears  that  Leighton  had  been  misinformed  as  to  "every  girl  "having  to 
pass  such  an  examination. 

2  In  ItaHen  auf  meiner  Wanderschaft 
Hab'  ich  dies  Bublein  aufgerafft 
Hab's  mit  dem  Pinsel  so  hingeschrieben 
1st  mir  leider  unvollendet  geblieben. 


ROME  159 

Divine !  eh  ?  I  knew  a  counterpart  in  the  Belgian  art-world. 
When  I  visited  Gallait  in  Brussels  some  years  ago,  before  the 
door  stood  a  ragged,  most  picturesque  Hungarian  rat-catcher, 
who  asked  me  if  an  artist  did  not  live  there.  Recently  I  saw 
my  Slav  again,  with  a  violin  under  his  arm,  in  a  window,  very 
finely  lithographed,  I  believe  even  an  "  artistes  contemporains "  ; 
in  the  corner  was  "  Louis  Gallait  pinx "  ;  underneath,  "  Art  et 
Libert^  "  1     Thus  do  pictures  originate  ! 

In  Berlin  everything  is  valued  extrinsically.  One  sees  that 
most  strikingly  in  the  new  Museum.  When  it  is  finished,  it  will 
be,  in  proportion  to  the  means  of  the  town  in  which  it  stands, 
the  most  splendid  that  I  know ;  moreover,  it  cannot  be  denied 
(unsuitable  as  a  three-quarters  Greek  building  may  be  on  the 
banks  of  the  Spree)  that  much  in  the  architecture  is  even  very 
beautiful.  But  what  is  the  good  of  it  all  ?  With  the  exception 
of  some  Egyptian  antiquities,  in  all  these  lavishly  gilded  and 
painted  rooms  there  are  only  plaster  casts !  Yes,  and,  I  must 
not  forget  it,  the  great  tea  -  service  of  Kaulbach.  A  wretched 
thing,  made,  moreover,  with  superfluous  productiveness  ;  simple 
allegory  carried  out  without  any  fine  sense  of  form,  with  utter 
denial  of  all  individuality,  and  painted — well,  of  that  one  would 
rather  say  nothing;  and  yet  "  Kaulbach  has  the  Hellenic  art," 
&c.  &c.,  and  all  the  rest  that  is  in  the  papers.  One  would 
like  to  exclaim  with   Cassius :    "Has  it  come  to  this,  ye  gods!" 

Unfortunately  I  cannot  praise  the  Cornelian  things  in  the 
old  Museum  much  either.  I  must  confess  they  displeased  me 
greatly  ;  when  I  consider  them  from  a  distance  in  their  con- 
nection with  the  building,  I  find  them  disproportioned  ;  in  a 
long,  very  simple  colonnade,  built  on  a  large  scale,  I  require  of 
a  fresco  painting  that  it  shall  show  in  form  and  colour  large, 
quiet,  plastic  masses  ;  instead  of  that  I  see  here  a  gay,  unquiet, 
confused  fricassee  of  thought  and  allegory  that  makes  one  dizzy  ; 
ideas  in  such  profusion  that  nothing  remains  with  the  spectator; 
he  goes  away  without  having  received  anything  ;  nor  is  the 
mental  impression  plastic.  If,  however,  one  goes  nearer  to  see 
the  execution,  again  one  finds  nothing  pleasing — a  constrained, 
unlovely  drawing — positions  that  could  only  be  attained  by  com- 
plete   breaking    on    the    wheel — a    general    appearance    as    if    the 


i6o  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

figures  had  no  bones,  but  muscles  made  of  brick  instead.  The 
colour  is  not  much  better  than  Kaulbach's.  The  end-piece  on 
the  right,  an  allegorical  representation  of  the  death  of  man  (or 
something  of  the  kind),  gives  the  most  ordinary  and  at  the  same 
time  most  awkward  sudden  impression  that  I  have  yet  seen. 
Cornelius  may  look  at  the  Vatican  in  Rome  and  see  if  he  can 
find  anything  like  it  there.  Altogether  the  once  certainly  great 
artist  seems  to  have  somewhat  deteriorated  ;  the  Cartoons  at 
the  Campo  Santo  are  not  by  a  long  way  so  good  as  the  design 
(which  I  find  charming  in  parts) ;  they  are  here  and  there,  which 
greatly  surprised  me,  disgracefully  out  of  drawing;  and  then  the 
theatrical  attitudes,  conventional  clothes,  &c.  &c.  In  the  Museum 
itself  there  are  few  pictures  of  the  first  rank,  but  so  much  the 
more  beautiful  are  those  by  masters  of  the  second  rank.  What 
a  Lippi !  what  a  Basaiti !  what  a  Cos  Rosetti !  I  was  entranced  ; 
that  is  art,  character,  form,  colour,  all  in  beautiful  harmony. 
The  "  Daughter  of  Titian "  does  not  deserve  its  celebrity  ;  it  is 
weak  and  dull. 

But  my  paper  is  exhausted,  as  are  also  my  eyes  ;  I  will 
therefore  defer  the  rest  to  another  letter,  and  only  mention  that 
in  Vienna  Kuppelwiesser,  Fiihrich,  and  Roesner  received  me  like 
a  son  of  the  house,  and  all  sent  hearty  greetings  to  you.  Do 
write  to  me  very  soon,  dear  Friend,  and  keep  in  kind  remembrance 
your  grateful,  devoted  pupil,  Fred   Leighton. 

My  address   is,   Poste   Restante,    Rome. 

Please  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife,  and  generally 
to   all   friends. 

When  tracing  the  ever-swaying  ebb  and  tiow  in  the  tides 
of  joy  and  sorrow  in  a  life,  we  come  to  times  which  seem  to 
accumulate  in  their  days  the  whole  strength  of  feeling  and 
vitality  of  which  a  nature  is  capable  ;  prominent  summits  that 
rise  triumphant  out  of  the  troublous  waves,  up  to  which  the 
past  existence  has  seemed  to  climb,  and  the  memory  of  which 
retains  a  dominating  influence  in  the  descent  of  the  future. 

"I — h'm — must  I  say  it? — am  just  as  happy  as  the  day  is 


ROME  i6i 

long."  So  wrote  Leighton  to  his  mother  when  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three  he  was  spending  his  days  in  and  about  Rome — 
that  wonderful  Rome  with  her  world  of  ghosts,  her  solemn 
eventful  past  skimmed  over  and  made  faint  by  her  actual 
sunlit  present.  To  Leighton  that  sunlit  present  became 
vividly,  excitingly  alive.  Fountains  of  joy  were  springing 
up  in  the  artist-nature,  catching  as  they  sprang  golden  rays 
from  all  that  is  most  beautiful  in  youth's  dominions.  Leighton 
writes  to  Steinle  (July  25,  1853):  "The  remembrance  of  the 
beautiful  time  spent  there  (Rome)  will  be  riches  to  me  through- 
out my  life ;  whatever  may  later  befall  me,  however  darkly 
the  sky  may  cloud  over  me,  there  will  remain  on  the  horizon 
of  the  past  the  beautiful  golden  stripe,  glowing,  indelible  ;  it 
will  smile  on  me  like  the  soft  blush  of  even." 

When,  in  the  late  autumn  of  1852,  he  first  arrived  in 
Rome,  he  had  just  stepped  from  the  position  of  being  one 
in  a  family  to  that  of  being  an  independent  unit ;  and,  though 
accompanied  by  his  brother  artist.  Count  Gamba,  he  felt 
greatly  the  loss  of  what  he  had  left  behind — the  inspiring  com- 
panionship of  Steinle,  compared  to  which  nothing  in  Rome 
was  worthy  to  count  as  an  art  influence.  Obliged  to  work 
in  a  small,  inconvenient  studio,  the  only  one  obtainable — 
expected  friends,  whose  society  he  valued,  failing  him — he 
felt  the  want  of  so  much  that  he  could  hardly  enjoy  what  he 
had.  In  those  first  days  (as  we  gather  from  his  letters)  the 
Eternal  City  cast  no  fresh  glamour  over  his  spirit. 

Spring  came,  and  the  tune  changed  with  the  entrance- 
ment  of  Persephone's  release  in  the  balmy  warmth  of  the 
South.  The  spring  air  twinkles  with  sunshine,  and  the  fruit- 
trees  are  again  alive  with  gay  blossom,  of  fluttering  petal,  frail 
as  the  soft  moth  wing ;  the  villa  gardens  are  again  bedecked 
with  grand,  more  solid  petalled  flowers — brilliant-hued  camellias 
— and  later, — the  noble  magnolia's  ivory  white  goblets  ;  while 
the  ground  is  carpeted  with  violets  and  varied-hued  anemones. 
VOL.  I.  L 


1 62  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

All  over  the  wild  spaces  of  the  Campagna  spring  up  grasses 
and  lovely  unchequered  growth,  spreading  a  green  and  golden 
fur,  bristling  in  the  bright  light  for  miles  and  miles  under  a 
cloudless  sky  away  to  the  faint  blue  line  of  mountains  on  the 
horizon.  On  one  summit — golden  in  the  sunlight — the  old 
town  of  Subiaco  is  poised  ;  on  nearer  slopes — summer  haunts 
of  the  ancient  Roman  world,  Tivoli,  Frascati,  Albano  :  the 
wastes  of  budding  herbage  between  checked  only  here  and 
there  by  some  spectre  of  old  days,  some  skeleton  of  a  broken 
archway,  some  remnant  of  a  ruined  wall. 

It  was  on  these  strange  wilds  of  the  Roman  Campagna 
that  the  life-long  friends,  Giovanni  Costa  and  Leighton,  first 
met.  Here  is  the  description  of  the  delightful  scene  of  their 
meeting,  and  of  Leighton's  previous  introduction  to  Costa's 
work  at  the  famous  Cafe  Greco,  written  by  Costa  after  his 
friend's  death  : — 

"  In  the  year  1853,  the  Cafe  Greco  at  Rome  was  a  world- 
renowned  centre  of  art,  a  rendezvous  for  artists  of  all  nation- 
alities, who  had  flocked  to  Rome  to  study  the  history  of  art 
as  well  as  the  beauties  of  nature  surrounding  the  sacred  walls 
of  the  Eternal  City. 

"  At  the  Caf6  Greco  ^  there  was  a  certain  waiter,  Rafaello, 
a  favourite  with  all,  who  had  collected  an  album  of  sketches 
and  water-colours  by  the  most  distinguished  artists,  such  as 
Cornelius,  Overbeck,  FranQais,  Benonville,  Brouloff,  Bocklin, 
and  others,  and  I  felt  much  flattered  when  I  too  was  asked 
to  contribute,  with  the  result  that  I  gave  him  the  only  water- 
colour  I  have  ever  done  in  my  life.  Leighton  was  also 
begged  by  Rafaello  to  do  something  for  the  album,  and  having 
it    in   his  hands,   he   saw   my  work,  and  asked   whose   it  was. 

^  The  Cafe  Greco  still  exists,  unaltered  since  the  days  when  Leighton  and 
Gamba  lunched  there  every  day  on  macaroni  al  burro.  I  visited  it  last  May  (1906), 
and  heard  from  the  present  proprietor  that  it  continues  to  be  frequented  by  artists 
of  all  countries.  He  had  heard  of  the  book  of  sketches,  and  also  that  Rafaello  had 
sold  it  before  his  death,  but  to  whom  the  Fadrofie  could  not  say. 


ROME  163 

On  being  told,  he  advised  Rafaello  to  keep  it  safely,  saying 
that  one  day  it  would  be  very  valuable.  When  I  came  later 
to  the  Cafe,  Rafaello  told  me  how  a  most  accomplished  young 
Englishman,  who  spoke  every  language,  had  seen  my  water- 
colour,  and  all  he  had  said  about  it.  I  was  very  proud  of  his 
criticism,  and  it  gave  me  courage  for  the  rest  of  my  life. 

"  That  same  year,  in  the  month  of  May,  the  usual  artists' 
picnic  took  place  at  Cervara,  a  farm  in  the  Roman  Campagna. 
There  used  to  be  donkey  races,  and  the  winner  of  these  was 
always  the  hero  of  the  day.  We  had  halted  at  Tor  de  Schiavi, 
three  miles  out  of  Rome,  and  half  the  distance  to  Cervara,^  for 
breakfast.  Every  one  had  dismounted  and  tied  his  beast  to 
a  paling,  and  all  were  eating  merrily. 

"  Suddenly  one  of  the  donkeys  kicked  over  a  beehive,  and 
out  flew  the  bees  to  revenge  themselves  on  the  donkeys. 
There  were  about  a  hundred  of  the  poor  beasts,  but  they  all 
unloosed  themselves  and  took  to  flight,  kicking  up  their  heels 
in  the  air — all  but  one  little  donkey,  who  was  unable  to  free 
himself,  and  so  the  whole  swarm  fell  upon  him. 

"  The  picnic  party  also  broke  up  and  fled,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  young  man,  with  fair,  curly  hair,  dressed  in  velvet, 
who,  slipping  on  gloves  and  tying  a  handkerchief  over  his 
face,  ran  to  liberate  the  poor  little  beast.  I  had  started  to 
do  the  same,  but  less  resolutely,  having  no  gloves  ;  so  I  met 
him  as  he  came  back,  and  congratulated  him,  asking  him 
his  name.  And  in  this  way  I  first  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Frederic  Leighton,  who  was  then  about  twenty-two  years 
old ;  but  I  was  not  then  aware  that  he  was  the  unknown 
admirer  of  my  drawing  in  Rafaello's  album.  I  remember  that 
day  I  had  the  great  honour  of  winning  the  donkey  race,  and 
Leighton  won  the  tilting  at  the  ring  with  a  flexible  cane ; 
therefore  we  met  again  when  sharing  the  honour  of  drinking 

^  Of  Cervara   there   is   a   pencil  drawing   by  Leighton  in  the    Leighton   House 
Collection,  in  his  earliest  style,  dated  1856. 


1 64  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

wine  from  the  President's  cup,  and  again  we  shook  hands. 
When  I  heard  from  Count  Gamba,  who  was  a  friend  and 
fellow-student  of  Leighton's,  what  great  talent  he  had,  I  tried 
to  see  his  work  and  to  improve  our  acquaintance  ;  for  as  I 
felt  I  must  be  somewhat  of  a  donkey  myself,  because  of  the 
Franciscan  education  I  had  received,  and  because  I  was  the 
fourteenth  in  our  family,  I  thought  the  companionship  of  the 
spirited  youth  would  give  me  courage." 

And  again  it  was  on  the  Campagna  that  that  choice  and 
delightful  company  picnicked  in  the  spring  -  time  of  the 
year,  of  which  company  Leighton  wrote  on  April  29,  1854 
(see  p.  146). 

Who  knows  but  that  it  was  at  one  of  these  notable  picnics 
that  Browning  was  inspired  to  write  his  wonderful  little  poem 
on  the  Campagna  } 

"  The  Champaign,  with  its  endless  fleece 
Of  feathery  grasses  everywhere. 
Silence  and  passion,  joy  and  peace, 

An  everlasting  wash  of  air — 
Rome's  ghost  since  her  decease. 

Such  life  there,  through  such  lengths  of  hours, 

Such  miracles  performed  in  play. 

Such  letting  nature  have  her  way  , 
While  Heaven  looks  from  its  towers." 

Life  was  full  to  overflowing  in  those  inspiring  days,  and 
Leighton  was  indeed  "as  happy  as  the  day  was  long." 
Friendships  grew  apace.  Many  were  made  which  were 
lasting,  notably  that  with  Mr.  Henry  Greville,  the  most 
intimate  man-friend  of  Leighton's  life.  His  friendships  with 
Sir  John  Leslie,  Mr.  Cartwright,  George  Mason,  Mr.  Aitchison, 
Sir  Edward  Poynter,  all  began  in  those  early  happy  days  in 
Rome.  Artists  living  there,  who  included  this  gifted  brother- 
painter  in  their  comradeship,  showed  more  and  more  sympathy 


ROME  165 

towards  his  work  as  they  became  more  intimate  with  the 
deliofhtful  nature.  Leiorhton  had  arrived  so  far  forward  on 
the  threshold  of  his  success  that  anxiety  about  his  pictures 
was  outweighed  by  hopeful  expectancy  ;  but  it  was  while  still 
standing  on  the  threshold — that  really  most  inspiring  of  all 
stages  in  the  journey,  during  the  two  years  from  1853  to  1855, 
before  the  great  triumph  of  signal  success  crowned  him — that 
we  catch  the  happiest  picture  in  Leighton's  life.  To  use  his 
own  words,  "  In  this  world  confident  expectation  is  a  greater 
blessing,  almost,  than  fruition." 

In  a  letter  he  wrote  to  Fanny  Kemble  on  February  i, 
1880,  Leio-hton  refers  to  a  conversation  he  had  with  her  at 
this  "  outset  of  his  career  " — a  conversation  which  recurred  to 
him,  he  tells  her,  when  he  first  addressed  the  Royal  Academy 
students  from  the  presidential  chair  in  1879.  He  offers  a 
copy  of  his  discourse  for  her  acceptance,  ending  his  letter 
by  the  words:  "  If  you  remember  that  conversation,  you  may 
perhaps  feel  some  interest  in  reading  the  Lecture,  of  which 
I  ask  you  to  accept  a  copy.  If  you  do  not  remember  it, 
nevertheless  accept  the  little  paper  for  the  sake  of  old  days 
which  were  not  as  to-day."^  How  much  can  a  few  words 
say !  If  gratified  ambition  could  ever  make  an  artist-nature 
happy,  how  transcendently  happy  Leighton  ought  to  have 
been  in  1880!  But  the  fibre  which  strung  the  highest  note 
in  his  nature  never  vibrated  to  worldly  success.  Though  his 
ambition  may  have  sought  success,  and  his  passion  for  ful- 
filling   to    the    utmost    his    duty    towards    his    fellow-creatures 

1  Fanny  Kemble's  answer  to  these  words  of  Leighton's  were:— "Thank  you,  my 

dear  Sir  Frederic,  for  the  address  you  have  been  so  good  as  to  give  me.      You 

honour  me  by  remembering  any  conversation  you  ever  had  with  me.     I  remember 

one  I  had  with  you  many  years  ago,  but  do  not  think  you  refer  to  that.     You  say  no 

word,  and  you  do  well,  upon  the  subject  that  must  be  uppermost  in  both  our  minds 

when  we  meet  or  hold  any  intercourse  with  each  other— our  thoughts  must  be  of 

the   same  complexion  and  could   hardly  find   any  expression.      Thank  you   agam 

for  your  kindness. — I  am  affectionately,  your  obliged, 

Fanny  Kemble. 


1 66  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

may  have  greatly  welcomed  it,  he  remained  to  the  end  of 
his  life  ever  on  the  threshold  of  that  kingdom,  the  possession 
of  which  could  alone  have  satisfied  what  he  "  cared  for 
most." 

The  following  letters  mention  the  progress  of  the  opus 
magnum  to  its  completion,  also  of  the  "Romeo"  picture, 
and  his  visits  to  Florence  and  the  Bagni  di  Lucca.  The 
first  begins  by  his  expressing  his  ever-growing  dislike  of 
general  society. 

\Commencement  missing.] 

Miss  is    no    less   than    ever,    and    no    less    agreeable,    as 

far  as  I  can  judge  ;  I  have  only  called  once  as  yet,  I  have  an 
ungovernable  horror  of  being  asked  to  tea  ;  my  aversion  to  tea- 
fights,  muffin-scrambles,  and  crumpet-conflicts,  which  has  been 
gathering  and  festering  for  a  long  time,  has  now  become  an 
open  wound.  The  more  I  enjoy  and  appreciate  the  society  and 
intercourse  of  the  dozen  people  that  I  care  to  know,  the  more 
tiresome  I  find  the  commerce  of  the  others,  braves  et  excellentes 
gens  du  reste ;  the  Lord  be  merciful  to  the  overwhelming  insipidity 
of  that  individual  whose  name  is  Legion — the  unexceptionable — the 
highly  respectable!  My  great  resource  is,  of  course,  Mrs.  Sartoris, 
whom  I  see  at  some  time  or  other  every  day,  for  it  would  be 
a  blank  day  to  me  in  which  I  did  not  see  her  ;  God  bless  her  ! 
for  my  dearest  friend.  I  warm  my  very  soul  in  the  glow  of 
her  sisterly  affection  and  kindness.  Little  baby  is  the  same 
sunbeam  that  he  always  was  ;  did  I  tell  you  I  painted  his  like- 
ness in  oils  as  a  surprise  for  his  father  ?  as  a  picture  it  is  not 
unsuccessful,  but  any  attempt  at  a  portrait  of  that  child  is  a 
profanation,  and  will  be  till  we  paint  with  the  down  of  peaches 
and  the  blood  of  cherries,  and  mix  our  tints  with  golden 
sunlight  ;  still,  it  pleased  them,  and  that  ought  to  be  enough  ; 
but  I  am  an  artist  as  well  as  a  friend.  A  very  interesting 
acquaintance  I  have  here  in  the  shape  of  Rossini,  the  great 
Rossini !  Poor  Rossini,  what  a  sad  fate  is  his,  to  have  lived  to 
see  the  people  on  whom  the  glory  of  his  splendid  genius  has 
shone  turn  away  from  him  in  forgetfulness,  neglecting  his  classical 


ROME  167 

beauties    to    listen    to    the     noisy    trivialities    of     a ,    who    has 

made  the  Italian  name  in  music  a  by-word  of  ridicule  ;  with  the 
music  of  course,  the  singers  have  degenerated  also  ;  a  singer  no 
longer  requires  to  be  an  artist,  it  is  no  longer  necessary  that  he 
or  she  should  study  his  or  her  part  till  every  note  has  a  meaning 
and  a  character  expressive  of  the  words  of  the  libretto,  and 
accompanied  by  musical  and  impassioned  mimica ;  no,  let  the 
prima  donna  only  squall  out  her  never-ending  fioriture  with  sufficient 
disregard  for  the  safety  of  her  lungs,  or  the  primo  tenore  shake 
the  stage  with  a  la  di  petto,  and  all  is  right.  This  is  a  digression, 
but  as  an  artist  I  can't  help  taking  it  to  heart,  and  wanted 
to  have  it  out.  Amongst  Mrs.  Sartoris'  few  "  intimes "  at  this 
moment  is  a  Neapolitan  lady,  la  Duchessa  Ravaschieri,  daughter 
of  Filangieri  the  minister,  who  has  given  her  himself  an  education 
almost  unique  amongst  Itahan  noblewomen,  who  are  insipid  and 
ignorant  beyond  anything. 

Florence,  Hotel  du  Nord, 
September  20,  1854. 

Dearest  Mamma, — I  was  much  surprised,  as  we  very  naturally 
measure  time  past  by  the  number  of  events  that  have  taken  place 
in  it,  the  interval  between  this  your  last  letter  and  the  previous 
one  seemed  to  me  doubly  long,  for  I  have  changed  scene  so 
often  during  these  last  four  or  five  weeks,  and  have  moved  so 
much  from  place  to  place,  that  it  seems  to  me  an  age  since  I 
last  despatched  a  letter  to  England  ;  from  which  you  will  naturally 
and  correctly  infer  that  it  was  a  very  great  pleasure  to  me  once 
more  to  see  your  handwriting.  Your  kind  anxiety  and  advice 
about  the  cholera  I  shall  remember  when  I  get  to  Rome  (which 
will  be  in  a  week  or  ten  days),  where  that  disease  prevails,  although 
mildly,  for  what  are  thirty  cases  a  day  in  a  town  of  that  size  ? 
In  the  meantime,  both  at  the  baths  where  I  have  been,  and 
at  Florence,  where  I  am,  the  cholera  has  not  dared  to  show 
its  face  ;  indeed,  such  a  prestige  of  salubrity  attaches  to  the 
name  of  the  baths  of  Lucca  that  eight  days'  sojourn  at  that 
place  is  considered  tantamount  to  a  ^^  quarantaine ! "  It  is  a  very 
strange  thing,  this  exemption  from  disease,  for  in  a  number  of 
the    surrounding  villages   the    number    of    people    carried    off    has 


1 68  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

been  frightful.  As  for  that  after  apprehension  of  yours,  dearest 
Mamma,  about  my  being  alone  and  uncared  for  in  case  of 
illness,  I  am  happy  to  say  that  nothing  can  be  more  unfounded  ; 
I  have  in  Mrs.  Sartoris  that  genuine  friend,  and,  especially,  genuine 
woman  friend  that  in  such  a  case  would  leave  nothing  undone 
that  you,  the  best  of  mothers,  and  my  own  dear  sisters,  would 
do  for  me.  It  is  her  habit,  when  any  of  her  bachelor  and 
homeless  friends  are  poorly,  to  go  and  sit  with  them  and  nurse 
them,  and  do  you  think  that  I,  who  have  become  one  of  her 
most  intimate  circle,  should  need  to  fear  neglect  ?  In  the  friend- 
ship of  that  admirable  woman  I  am  rich  for  life.  Poor  thing, 
she  has  lately  received  a  great  blow  in  her  own  family  from 
the  sudden  calamity  which  has  befallen  her.  This  shocking  news 
reached  me  here,  at  Florence,  where  I  had  come  on  from  the 
baths,  and  ascertaining  that  her  husband  was  gone  off  to  England 
to  inquire  into  the  matter,  and  that  by  a  chance  her  boy's  tutor 
was  absent  at  the  same  time,  I  instantaneously  went  off  to  Lucca, 
where  I  stayed  a  week  (till  the  return  of  the  tutor),  taking  care 
of  her  boy,  hearing  him  his  lessons,  and  especially  keeping  him 
out  of  the  way  ;  in  the  evening  I  used  to  walk  or  drive  with 
her,  and  to  my  infinite  gratification  was  able  to  be  some  little 
comfort  and  distraction  to  her ;  my  only  regret  in  the  whole 
business  was  that  I  was  making  no  material  sacrifice  of  my  own 
time  and  pleasure,  so  that  I  had  not  the  satisfaction  of  comforting 
her  at  my  own  expense.  In  adopting  the  resolution,  which  I  have 
communicated  to  you,  of  retiring  from  society,  I  have  taken  into 
consideration  all  that  you  say,  dear  Mamma,  and  more  too,  for 
I  feel  I  have  of  my  nature  a  very  fair  share  of  the  hateful 
worldly  weakness  of  my  country-people  ;  still,  I  have  found  no 
sufficiently  great  advantage  or  compensation  for  the  tedium  of 
going  out  ;  the  Roman  grand  monde,  a  small  part  of  which  I 
know,  and  which,  had  I  chosen  to  push  a  little,  I  might  have 
known  all,  is  of  no  use  whatever  in  reference  to  my  future  career  ; 
added  to  which  I  believe  I  told  you  that  I  never  by  any  chance 
got  introduced  to  anybody,  so  that  whomever  I  know,  I  know 
by  chance,  or  by  their  own  wish.  For  instance,  last  winter  I 
met  the  Duke  of  Wellington  constantly,  both  at  the  Sartoris'  (he 
is  a  very  old  friend  of  hers)  and  at   the  Farquhars',  and  though  he 


ROME  169 

is  the  most  accessible  of  men,  I  made  no  attempt  to  make  his 
acquaintance,  and  so  it  is  with  everybody.  But  for  the  tableaux 
charades  which  Mrs.  S.  gave  last  winter,  in  which  I  was  joint- 
manager  with  herself,  and  was  therefore  brought  into  contact 
with  her  numerous  co-operating  friends,  I  should  probably  have 
known  few  or  none  of  those  who  were  at  her  house  every 
week;  always  excepting  our  own  intimate  circle,  to  wit.  Browning, 
Ampere,  Dr.  Pantaleoni,  Lyons,  Count  Gozze,  Duke  Sermoneta,  &c. 
You  know,  when  I  say  I  shan't  go  out,  it  is  in  so  far  a  fa^on  de 
parley,  that,  as  I  shall  be  at  least  every  other  day  at  Mrs,  Sartoris', 
I   shall  not  be  at  home,  trying  my  eyes.      I   quite  agree  with  you 

in  thinking  this  business  of 's  a  most  awkward  thing  ;   I  cannot 

understand  a  man  having  once  gone  into  the  army  and  made  his 
profession  to  be  honourably  killed  for  his  country,  should  not 
jump  at  the  idea  of  going  to  the  scene  of  war  ;  I  have  felt  a 
very  strong  desire  to  lend  a  hand  myself,  but  one  cannot  drive 
two  trades.  My  singing  (in  particular,  and  music  in  general)  I 
have  avoided  mentioning,  because,  dear  Mamma,  it  is  a  subject 
on  which  I  have  no  reason  to  dwell  very  complacently  ;  my  first 
disappointment  was  finding  my  voice,  instead  of  strengthening 
in  an  Italian  climate,  getting  if  possible  weaker  than  it  was.  It 
is  the  merest  "  fil  de  voix."  I  have  therefore  as  the  onset  very 
insufficient  "  moyens  "  ;  this  is  owing,  not  only  to  the  insufficiency 
of  my  "  organe,"  but  also  to  an  unpleasant  visitation  in  the  shape 
of  swollen  and  irritated  tonsils,  the  very  ailment,  I  believe,  under 
which  Gussy  labours.  This  symptom,  which  I  have  carried  about 
some  time,  is,  I  fancy,  not  likely  ever  to  leave  me  permanently  ; 
add  to  this  that  as  soon  as  I  sit  down  to  thump  with  elephantine 
touch  a  most  ordinary  accompaniment,  the  little  voice  I  have 
vanishes  ;  thus  between  two  stools  .  .  .  you  know  the  rest.  Still, 
I  am  bound  to  add  that  Mrs.  Sartoris  (who  could  not  flatter) 
has  great  pleasure  in  hearing  me  coo  a  little  song  or  two  that 
I  know,  and  says  I  have  what  is  better  than  voice,  which  is  a 
musical  "accent,"  and  that  (she  is  pleased  to  add)  to  a  rather  remark- 
able degree  ;  my  voice  is  weak  and  powerless,  but  true  and  facile. 
I  will  tell  you  exactly  what  to  expect  when  you  see  me  again.  I 
shall  be  able  to  sit  down  to  the  piano  and  whine  some  half- 
dozen    pretty   little    ballads,   with    a    rum-tum-tum   accompaniment 


I70  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

of  affecting  simplicity.  Gussy  dreams  of  me  as  "very  handsome" 
and  "are  my  whiskers  growing?"  I  am  not  very  handsome, 
none  of  my  features  are  really  good.  My  whiskers  have  grown, 
they  are  undeniable,  there  is  no  shirking  them,  or  getting  out 
of  the  way  of  them  ;  /  wear  whiskers  though  you  were  short- 
sighted ;  hut  they  are  modest  ones  ;  as  for  moustaches,  the  seven 
hairs  which  I  have  (and  wear)  are  not  worth  mentioning,  but 
still  I  have  none  of  that  delicacy  which  you  profess  on  the  subject. 
In  my  opinion,  if  gentlemanhood  is  a  thing  dependent  on  the 
scraping  of  four  square  inches  of  your  face,  and  residing  only  in 
the  well-shaved  purlieus  of  a  (probably)  ugly  mouth,  I  feel  equal 
to  going  without  it,  in  that  shape  at  all  events.  A  moustache,  and 
even  a  beard,  if  kept  short  enough  to  be  in  keeping  with  a  not 
very  flowing  costume,  is  both  becoming  and  convenient,  and  I 
fear  that  the  whole  prestige  of  respectability  hovering  around 
Mr.  and  Mrs. ,  or  the  withering  contempt  of  the  irreproach- 
able Sir  John  and  Lady ,  would  not  make  me  shave,  unless, 

indeed,  I  felt  too  hot  about  the  chin.  I  have  gone  through  your 
letter,  and  shall  wind  up  with  a  few  words  about  my  doings, 
which,  by-the-bye,  might  be  compendiously  characterised  by  one 
word  :  nothing.  My  holidays  are  drawing  to  a  close,  and  I  shall 
be  in  Rome,  working  very  hard  to  get  my  pictures  done  for 
the  Exhibitions.  Meanwhile  I  am  enjoying  Florentine  sunsets, 
the  gorgeousness  of  which  defies  description.  The  other  day, 
in  particular,  I  was  on  the  heights  near  the  Miniato,  I  thought 
I  had  never  seen  anything  like  it.  I  remembered  Papa's  fond- 
ness for  that  spot,  and  wished  he  had  been  there  to  share  my 
enjoyment  ;  the  lanes  were  cool  and  pearly  grey  ;  over  them 
hung  in  every  fantastic  shape  the  rich  growth  of  the  orchards 
and  gardens  that  crowned  the  lengthened  walls ;  the  olives,  strangely 
twisted,  flaming  with  a  thousand  tongues  of  fire  ;  the  wreathing 
vine  flinging  its  emerald  skirts  from  tree  to  tree;  the  purple  wine 
flashing  in  the  fiery  grape  ;  the  stately  ma'is  flapping  its  arms  in 
the  breath  of  the  evening  ;  the  solemn  cypress  ;  the  poetic  laurel ; 
the  joyous  oleander — all  glorified  in  the  ardour  of  the  setting  sun, 
that  flung  its  rays  obliquely  along  the  earth  ;  you  would  have  been 
enchanted. 


ROME 


171 


Rome,  Via  Felice  123, 
February  10,  1855. 

Dear  Papa, — I  hasten  to  answer  your  kind  letter  and  to 
thank  you  for  the  willingness  you  express  to  advance  such  a 
sum  of  money  as  I  shall  require  to  cover  the  heavy  expenses 
I  am  incurring.  I  forgot  to  mention  in  my  last  letter  that  my 
picture  will  be  directed  straight  to  the  frame-maker's  who  under- 
takes the  exhibiting  of  it. 

In  approaching  the  other  points  which  you  touch  in  your 
letter,  I  feel  that  my  letter  will  unavoidably  have  a  combative 
colouring,  which  I  sincerely  hope  you  will  not  misconstrue,  and 
beg  that  you  will  consider  whether  the  reasons  I  advance  for 
not  conforming  to  your  suggestions  are  not  sound  ones.  If  I 
particularly  object  to  accompanying  my  picture,  it  is  because  I 
think  that  the  small  advantages  that  might  accrue  from  so  doing 
would  in  no  way  make  up  for  all  I  should  lose ;  whatever  can 
be  done  to  my  picture  on  its  arrival  in  England  will  be  kindly 
done  for  me  by  my  friend,  Mr.  T.  Gooderson,  who  is  in  the 
habit  of  receiving  and  varnishing  Buckner's  works  on  similar 
occasions  ;  with  respect  to  the  interest  to  be  made  amongst  the 
Academicians  in  behalf  of  my  op.  magn.,  I  have  neglected  that 
on  the  express  advice  of  Buckner,  who  has  great  experience  in 
those  matters  and  is  a  most  kind  and  honest  man  ;  he  says, 
such  is  the  party  spirit  of  R.A.'s,  that  the  best  chance  of 
securing  impartial  treatment  (in  the  case  of  a  work  of  merit) 
is  to  be  completely  unknown  to  all  of  them,  a  condition  which 
I  am  admirably  calculated  to  fulfil.  You  are  also  perhaps  not 
aware  that  my  picture  will  reach  England  five  weeks  before  the 
opening  of  the  Exhibition,  so  that  by  accompanying  it  I  should 
completely  lose  all  the  best  part  of  the  year  here  in  Rome. 
There  are  a  great  number  of  things  which  I  propose  doing  now 
that  my  pictures  are  about  to  be  off  my  hands.  There  are  here 
several  very  remarkable  heads  of  which  I  wish  to  make  finished 
studies,  and  especially  also  I  am  loth  to  go  without  having 
drawn  anything  from  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael,  which  is  one 
of  the  chief  objects  for  which  one  comes  to  this  city  of  the 
past  ;    but,    I    do   not   hesitate   to    say,   the   principal    task   which    I 


172  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

propose  to  myself  is  a  half-length  portrait  of  Mrs.  Sartoris,  to 
which  I  wish  to  devote  my  every  energy  that  it  may  be  worthy 
of  perpetuating  the  features  of  the  last  Kemble ;  irrespective  of 
the  enormous  artistic  advantage  to  be  derived  from  the  study 
of  so  exceptional  a  head,  you  will  easily  understand  my  eagerness 
to  give  some  tangible  form  to  my  gratitude  towards  those  whose 
fireside  has  been  my  fireside  for  so  long  a  time ;  nothing  would 
grieve  me  more  than  missing  so  good  an  opportunity.  I  con- 
fess, too,  that  I  wished  to  see  a  little  more  leisurely  the  glorious 
scenery  that  lies  all  round  Rome,  and  which  I  have  hitherto 
hardly  glanced  at,  and  partly  indeed  not  seen  at  all.  I  had 
indeed  contemplated  before  leaving  Italy,  making  a  trip  to  Naples, 
Capri,  Oschia,  Amalfi,  and  all  the  spots  about  which  artists  rave. 
This,  however,  will  I  fear  be  under  all  circumstances  a  financial 
chateau  en  Espagne. 

Translation.'] 

Rome,  Via  Felice  123, 
February  12. 

Honoured  and  dear  Friend, — That  you,  who  know  me  so 
well  and  are  so  well  aware  of  how  I  carry  your  image  in  my 
heart,  could  misinterpret  my  silence  I  did  not  fear  for  a  moment, 
for  rather  will  you  have  thought  to  yourself  that  the  stress  of  my 
occupations  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  my  incapacity  to  do 
anything  at  night,  have  hitherto  prevented  me  from  writing  ;  and 
so  it  is ;  for,  be  you  assured,  dear  Friend,  that,  as  long  as  I 
pursue  art,  you  will  be  ever  present  with  me  in  the  spirit,  and 
that  I  shall  always  ascribe  every  success  which  I  may  possibly 
attain  in  the  future  to  your  wise  counsel  and  your  inspiriting 
example,  for  "  as  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree's  inclined." 

First  I  will  tell  you  about  my  health  ;  thank  Heaven,  as  regards 
my  general  health,  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of  ;  if  not  exactly 
strong,  still  I  am  lively  and  in  good  spirits,  and  look  out  upon 
the  world  quite  contentedly.  My  eyes — well,  yes,  they  might  be 
better  ;  otherwise  I  am  always  in  a  condition  to  work  my  seven 
or  eight  hours  a  day  without  over-exertion,  in  return  for  which 
I  dare  not  do  anything  in  the  evenings.  To  tell  the  truth,  my 
position  is  not  an  agreeable  one  ;   I  am  not  bad  enough  to  follow 


ROME  173 

the  course  prescribed  for  me    by  Graefe,   but  on  the    other   hand 
not  well  enough  to  be  able  to  feel  quite  tranquil.  .   .   . 

Time  has  slipped  away  in  stress  of  work  since  I  commenced 
this  letter.  I  throw  myself  again  upon  your  goodness,  dear 
Master,  and  beg  you  will  not  measure  my  love  by  my  readiness 
in  writing,  for  then  I  should  certainly  come  off  a  loser.  I  told 
you  that  my  affairs  have  pressed  upon  me  ;  I  have  finished  my 
"  Cimabue."  I  am  dreadfully  disappointed,  dear  Friend,  that  I 
cannot,  as  I  hoped,  send  you  a  photograph,  but  it  has  been 
impossible  for  me  to  have  one  taken,  since  the  picture  is  so 
large  that  it  could  not  be  transported  to  a  photographic  loggia 
without  fearful  ado  and  unnecessary  risk  to  the  canvas  ;  I  will 
therefore  exert  myself  to  write  you  what  it  looks  like.  First 
you  must  know  that  I  changed  my  intention  as  to  the  respective 
sizes  of  the  two  pictures,  for  I  perceived  that  my  eyes  could  not 
possibly  permit  the  Florentine  composition  to  be  carried  out  on 
the  proposed  scale.  I  therefore  took  a  canvas  of  1 7^  feet  (English 
measure),  in  consequence  of  which  my  figures  have  become  half 
life  size  (like  Raphael's  "  Madonna  del  Cardellino "),  and  do  not 
look  at  all  ill.  The  other  picture  (which  I  shall  send  to  London) 
will  be  something  over  7  feet  long  by  5  feet.  If  I  am  to  get 
them  both  finished  by  next  January,  I  must  set  to  work  in  earnest. 
I  have  made  the  following  alterations  :  first,  those  prescribed  by 
you,  viz.  I  have  made  the  picture  which  is  being  carried  larger,  the 
chapel  smaller,  and  have  suppressed  the  flower-pots  on  the  walls. 
A  further  alteration  I  have  made  by  the  advice  of  Cornelius  ;  he 
said  to  me  that  the  foremost  group  (the  women  strewing  flowers 
with  children)  seemed  to  him  somewhat  to  disturb  the  simplicity 
of  the  rest  of  the  composition,  and  suggested  that  I  should  put 
in  a  couple  of  priests,  especially  as  the  portrait  is  of  a  Madonna 
and  is  being  taken  to  a  church  ;  he  further  advised  me,  in  order 
to  prevent  the  picture  from  being  too  frieze-like,  to  allow  this 
foremost  group  to  walk  up  to  the  spectator.  It  now  looks 
something  like  this  : 

(Slight  sketch  of  the  design  for  "  Cimabue's  Madonna.") 

I  hope  with  all  my  heart  that  you  will  approve  these  alterations. 
I  have  drawn  a  quantity  of  heads  and  hands,  which  are  all  finished. 


174  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

like  the  "  Chiaruccia "  which  I  gave  you  ;  drapery  is  not  lacking. 
How  I  regret,  dear  Friend,  that  I  cannot  show  them  to  you. 
Gamba  also  is  very  industrious  ;  he  has  made  endless  studies, 
and  has  also  got  his  record  ready.  He  sends  you  most  hearty 
greetings.  Of  his  diligence  there  is  always  plenty  to  tell,  and 
you  will  not  be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  that  he  has  made 
very  gratifying  progress. 

I  could  still  tell  you  a  great  deal,  my  dear  Master,  of  what 
I  have  seen  and  experienced  !  but  time  and,  alas  !  especially  eyes 
compel  me  to  be  laconic,  or  this  oft-begun  letter  will  never  be 
finished.  Therefore  I  will  only  briefly  narrate  what  happened 
to  me  in  the  imperial  city  ;  my  goodness !  how  long  ago  that 
seems.  My  first  impression,  as  I  alighted  from  the  train,  was 
very  pleasant.  A  lovely  autumn  morning,  the  Prater  with  its 
beautiful  trees,  the  Jagerheil  in  the  sunshine,  all  together  welcomed 
me  gaily.  I  alighted  in  the  Leopold  suburb,  and  set  off  on  foot 
the  same  morning  in  quest  of  Kuppelwieser,  a  cordial,  charming 
man.  Through  him  I  became  acquainted  with  Fiihrich  and 
Roesner,  who  both  received  me  no  less  kindly.  They  all  re- 
membered with  warm  affection  their  dear  comrade,  Steinle,  and 
sent  most  hearty  messages  to  him.  Of  their  works  (for  to  you, 
best  of  friends,  I  write  frankly)  I  cannot,  candidly,  speak  very 
highly,  but  perhaps  I  might  of  the  tenacious  maintenance  of  their 
opinion  in  spite  of  the  boundless,  oppressive  indifference  of  the 
Viennese  towards  high  art.  Now,  the  dear  friends  are  somewhat 
ascetic  representatives  of  their  mode  of  thought  —  a  mode  of 
thought  which  can  be  combined,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  great  days 
of  art,  with  the  greatest  charm  of  representation  ;  but  this  quality 
is  unfortunately  too  often  absent  from  our  friends.  Of  the  two, 
Kuppelwieser  is  the  less  offensive  ;  he  is  perhaps  rather  antiquated, 
but  not  without  cleverness ;  Fiihrich  is  far  too  ornamental  for  me, 
and  as  a  painter,  God  save  the  mark  !  Good  gracious !  what  is 
nature  there  for  ?  What  can  the  people  make  of  all  this  i  how 
is  it  possible  that  one  can  get  so  far  in  spite  of  a  perverted 
training !  that  people  do  not  perceive  their  fearful  arrogance ! 
They  plume  themselves  upon  piety  and  humility,  and  in  God's 
beautiful  creation  nothing  is  right  for  them  ;  do  they  then  ever 
admit,  these  gentlemen,  that   they  do  not  want  nature  any  more 


ROME  175 

because  they  are  aware  that  they  no  longer  know  how  to  use  her  ? 

Would  they  feel  happy  if  they  saw  a  Masaccio,  a  Ghirlandajo,  a 

Carpaccio  ?      But  they  in  their  drawings  are  pretentious  and  puffed 

up,  but  there  is  no  learnedness  in  them,  and  that  which  God  has 

made  so  lovely  with  all  the  brilliancy  of  colour,  they  daub  with 

any  dirt,  and  call  it  a  picture  ;  some  even  (that  was  still  lacking) 

shrug   their    shoulders   spitefully   and    mock — at   the   unattainable. 

And  whence   does  all   that    arise  ?      How   is  it  that  even  sensible 

clever   men   are  so   ill   equipped  ?      It   is   due   solely  and   alone  to 

the   topsy-turvy,  involved   principle  of   education,  to   the  fact  that 

the  people,  while  they  are  still  young,  labour  and  worry  day  and 

night    at   the   representation    of    unrepresentable    ideas,    instead    of 

drawing   from    nature    and   from    nothing   else   for   ever   and   ever 

amen,   till   they  are   in   close   harmony   with    her  ;    that  would  be 

a  soil  from  which  the  tree  of  their  art  could  grow  upwards,  fresh, 

powerful,    ever-herbescent  ;    that    they   might    not    stand    there    in 

their    old    age    as    high,    proud,    upward-aspiring    trunks    without 

leaves,  without  sap.      Naturally  all  this  is  not  aimed  at  the  good 

Fiihrich,  but  in  general   against   all  those  who   in   their  infatuation 

allow  themselves,  behind  the  shield  of  severe  sentiments  and  high 

efforts,  to  throw  overboard  all  the  difficulties  of  art.      How  gladly 

my  thoughts  turn  away  from  such   unpleasing  reflections  to  you, 

dearest  Friend,  who  take  nature  for  your  model  in  every  part  of 

your   pictures,   and   with    your   high    degree   of   ability   are   always 

the   devoted    pupil   of    nature!      Keep,    I    beg    you,   your    grateful 

pupil  in  sympathetic  remembrance,  and  never  doubt  the  devotion 

of  your  loving  friend,  Fred  Leighton. 

Please  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife  ;  also  to  my 
other  friends.  If  you  see  Schalck,  will  you  kindly  say  to  him 
that  I  have  received  his  letter,  and  will  answer  it  when  my 
eyes  permit.  I  am  longing  to  hear  what  pictures  and  draw- 
ings you  are  making  !  Will  you  forgive  my  silence,  and  write 
to  me  ? 

My  picture  is  under-painted  grey-in-grey  {grau  in  grau)  ;  I 
finished  it  in  a   week  ;  it  was  a  great  effort. 


176  THE    LIFE   OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 


Rome,  Via  Felice, 

February  19,  1855. 

Dearest  Mamma, — As  the  body  of  the  letter  I  have  just 
received  is  written  by  Papa,  I  have  thought  well  to  address  to 
him  the  important  part  of  mine  ;  you  will  therein  see  all  the 
business  news  that  I  have  to  give,  and  will,  I  know,  be  much 
pleased  to  hear  that  my  picture  has  had  great  success  here ;  I 
hope  it  may  not  have  less  in  London.  As  the  picture  is  of  a 
jovial  aspect  and  contains  pretty  faces,  male  and  female,  I  think 
the  public  will  find  leur  affaire;  the  "Romeo  and  Juliet"  (also 
nearly  finished)  will,  though  perhaps  a  better  picture,  probably 
be  less  popular  from  its  necessarily  serious  and  dingy  aspect. 
Dear  Mamma,  I  am  much  tickled  at  your  comparison  between 
the  Campagna  and  the  environs  of  Bath  ;  it  is  like  saying  that 
strawberries  and  cream  are  equal  and  perhaps  superior  to  a  haunch 
of  wild  boar  !  Vun  nempeche  pas  V autre,  but  they  can  never  be 
compared,  nor  can  they  answer  the  same  purpose.  The  Sartoris 
are  well  ;   I   am  there  every  evening  of  my  life. 

The  next  page  is  Papa's.  Good-bye,  dear  Mamma.  Best  love 
from  your  affectionate  and  dutiful  son,  Fred  Leighton. 

P.S. — My  resolution  not  to  dance  I  have  kept  (excepting  in  the 
case  of  quadrilles),  and  have  avoided  making  new  acquaintances,  as 
I  intend  next  winter  not  to  go  out  at  all  ;  but  if  I  have  no  longer 
agitated  the  fantastic  toe,  and  have  acquired  a  cordial  dislike  to 
balls,  I  have  been  all  the  oftener  to  my  dearest  and  best  friends, 
the  Sartoris,  to  whom  I  go  about  four  times  a  week,  and  of  whose 
sterling  worth  it  is  impossible  to  speak  too  warmly  ;  at  their  house 
also  I  have  made  several  interesting  acquaintances  ;  Fanny  Kemble 
(as  you  know),  Thackeray,  Lockhart,  Browning,  the  authors ; 
Marochetti,  the  sculptor,  and  so  on ;  as  for  Mrs.  Sartoris,  I  look 
upon  her  as  an  angel,  ni  plus  ni  moins,  and  I  feel  terrified  at  the 
idea  of  how  much  more  exacting  she  has  made  me  for  the  future 
choice  of  a  wife,  by  showing  one  what  opposite  excellencies  a 
woman  may  unite  in  herself. 


ROME  lyy 

To  his  Father — Part  of  letter  missing.'] 

1855. 

It  is  with  very  great  pleasure  that  I  announce  to  you  the 
completion  of  my  large  picture,  which  I  have  exhibited  privately 
to  my  English  friends  and  a  crowd  of  artists  of  all  nations. 
You  will,  I  am  sure,  be  gratified  to  hear  that  it  had  a  remark- 
able "  succes "  ;  artists  of  whatever  school  seem  equally  pleased, 
some  admiring  the  drawing,  others  the  colouring.  I  hope  that 
what  I  say  does  not  savour  of  vanity  ;  I  simply  tell  it  you  from 
a  conviction  that  it  is  agreeable  to  you  to  hear  what  people  say 
of  your  son,  and  to  anticipate  in  some  measure  the  verdict  of 
a  larger  public.  As  for  the  positive  value  of  it,  we  all  know 
what  to  think  about  that.  It  amused  me  to  hear  that  several 
people  compared  my  picture  to  the  works  of  Maclise,  and  came 
to  conclusions  considerably  in  my  favour.  Swinton  paid  me  the 
compliment  of  requesting  to  be  introduced  to  me,  and  seemed 
very  sincerely  to  admire  my  picture,  as  also  a  portfolio  of  leads 
which  I  have  drawn  at  different  times,  and  which  are  much 
admired  by  everybody. 

Of  course  you  did  perfectly  right  in  not  dreaming  of  exhibiting 
Isabel's  likeness.  Pray  do  not  think  from  what  I  said  about  my 
lengthened  stay  in  Rome,  that  I  undervalue  the  delight  of  seeing 
you  all  again,  but  still  I  think  that  if  by  a  little  postponement 
I  can  have  that  pleasure  without  losing  my  spring,  it  would  be 
better.  My  idea  is  to  remain  in  Italy  till  the  end  of  May,  and 
then  visiting  Paris  (to  see  the  great  Exhibition)  on  my  road  to 
get  home  by  the  middle  or  end  of  June,  which  will  still  leave 
me  a  long  summer's  holiday. 

This  letter  from  his  mother  contains  the  news  of  Leiehton's 
father's  joy  at  the  success  of  the  picture  in  Rome  : — 

February  18,  1855. 

Now    I    think  of    it,   you   have   probably  some  signs  of  spring 

about   you — how  enviable  !      My    dear   Fred,    I    did    not    compare 

the  artistic  resources  of  Bath   with  those  of    Rome,  well  knowing 

that    the    transparent    atmosphere    there     imparts     beauty    to    the 

VOL.  I.  M 


178  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

country  which,  without  it,  might  not  be  remarked  ;  equally  bright 
and  clear  the  sky  is  not  in  England,  but  I  assure  you  that  many 
parts  of  the  country  near  us  and  in  Devonshire,  and  doubtless 
in  many  other  counties,  may  for  beauty  challenge  a  comparison 
with  many  most  admired  spots  in  Italy  and  elsewhere,  though 
the  character  of  the  landscape  is  different.  Nevertheless,  I  shall 
be  very  glad  to  see  again  Switzerland,  Southern  Germany,  &c, 
&c.  Pray,  dear  Fred,  if  you  do  go  to  sketch  in  the  Campagna, 
take  care  not  to  expose  yourself  to  any  disagreeable  adventures 
with  Brigands  ;  I  entreat  you,  be  prudent.  Not  to  tire  you  with 
repetition,  I  have  not  alluded  to  the  success  of  your  picture,  but 
I  must  tell  you  that  your  father  was  radiant  with  joy  as  he  read 
your  letter  and  gave  it  into  my  hands  with  the  words,  "That 
is  a  satisfactory  letter."  I  am  curious  to  know  when  we  shall  see 
your  Paris  picture,  and  whether  we  shall  winter  in  that  delightful 
town  ;  Papa  and  I  have  always  wished  it.  I  must  just  mention, 
what  I  had  nearly  forgotten,  that  a  great  treat  is  in  store  for  the 
inhabitants  of  Bath,  as  next  week  Mrs.  Fanny  Kemble  is  to  read 
some  of  Shakespeare's  plays  in  public,  with  appropriate  music. 
A  great  treat  is  expected.  God  bless  you,  love,  I  can  no  more. 
Our  united  affectionate  greetings. — Your  attached  Mother, 

A.    LEIGHTON. 

Rome,  January  3,   1855. 
{Reed.  January  12.) 

Dearest  Mamma, — Let  me  hasten  to  reassure  my  poor  dear 
progenitor  on  the  subject  of  his  anxieties  ;  if  I  spoke  doubtfully 
and  despondently  of  my  performances,  it  was  owing  to  the  lively 
feeling  that  every  artist,  whose  ideal  is  beyond  the  applause  of 
the  many,  must  entertain  of  his  own  shortcomings  ;  once  and 
for  all  let  me  beg  him  never  to  feel  any  uneasiness  on  the 
score  of  mechanical  processes,  as  in  such  cases  one  always  has 
the  resource  of  cutting  the  Gordian  knot  by  painting  over  again 
the  unsuccessful  portions,  an  expedient  indeed  to  which  I  have 
many  a  time  been  forced  to  resort  ;  the  result  of  such  failures 
is  called  experience  ;  through  such  failures  alone  one  arrives  at 
success.  Nor  am  I  wanting  in  the  applause  of  my  friends,  who 
all   speak   in   praise   and   encouragement   of   my   works,    and  it    is 


ROME  179 

not  a  little  gratifying  to  me  to  find  that  those  whose  opinions 
I  most  value  are  the  first  to  speak  favourably  of  my  endeavours  ; 
as  agreeable  as  is  to  me  this  testimony  on  their  part,  so  in- 
different am  I,  and  must  I  beg  you  to  be  (for  better  and  for 
worse)  to  the  scribbling  of  pamphleteers  ;  the  self-complacent 
oracularity  of  these  pachidermata  is  rivalled  only  by  their  gross 
ignorance  of  the  subjects  they  bemaul,  and  the  conventional 
flatness  of  all  their  views  ;  I  speak  without  fear  of  being  con- 
sidered partial,  as  the  article  which  you  communicate  to  me 
contains  more  of  praise  than  of  blame  ;  it  is,  however,  my  prac- 
tice never  to  accept  (inwardly)  the  praise  of  those  whose  blame 
I  don't  acknowledge.      I  happen  to  have  seen  other  articles  from 

the   pen   of   this   same    Mister ,   and  know   d  quoi  m'en  tenir. 

The  notice  on  myself  I  had  heard  of,  but  not  seen.  It  may 
amuse  you  to  hear  that  my  draperies  have  been  considered 
(alas !)  the  most  successful  part  of  my  picture,  and  I  am  at 
present  labouring  hard  to  bring  the  heads,  &c.,  up  to  them! 
In  about  a  fortnight,  the  large  work  ("  Cimabue,"  the  "  canvas  of 
many  feet")  will  be,  D.V.,  finished,  with  the  exception  of  the 
ultimate  glazes  and  retouches  ;  by  the  end  of  February,  both 
pictures  will  start  for  their  respective  destinations.  One  thing 
has  caused  me  some  annoyance  and  anxiety  ;  I  wrote  a  month 
ago  (or  more)  to  one  Mr.  Allen,  carver  and  gilder,  31  Ebury 
Street,  Pimlico,  sending  a  design  of  my  frame,  and  requesting 
him  to  let  me  know  at  once  what  would  be  the  cost  of  such  a 
frame,  whether  he  would  undertake  it,  and  asking  many  questions 
important  to  me  to  know  ;  I  have  received  no  answer  ;  I  there- 
fore must  take  for  granted  that  either  he  has  not  received  my 
letter,  or  his  answer  to  me  has  been  lost  ;  now,  as  there  is  no 
longer  any  time  to  correspond  on  the  subject,  I  must,  on  the 
supposition  that  my  letter  has  gone  astray,  send  another  design 
together  with  an  unconditional  order  to  begin  at  once  at  what- 
ever cost  ;  now  I  grudge  the  time  of  writing  a  duplicate  of  my 
old  letter,  and  especially  that  of  drawing  a  new  diagram  for  his 
guidance.  With  regard  to  the  price,  Fripp,  who  recommended 
him  to  me,  says  Allen  is  a  very  respectable  man,  and  will  no 
way  take  advantage  of  my  awkward  position  ;  I  calculate  the 
frame    can    hardly   exceed   five    and    twenty    pounds  ;     then    there 


i8o  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

will  be  the  bill  for  exhibiting  the  picture  of  which  he  will  take 
charge  ;  I  expect  that  the  framing,  packing,  sending,  &c.,  of  the 
two  canvases  together  will  cost  about  fifty  pounds  "  tant  pis 
pour  moi ! " 

(Here  the  letter  breaks  off.) 

(Cover— Madame  Leighton,  Rome,  Via  Felice  123, 

9  Circus,  Bath,  England.)  March  2,  1855. 

(On  cover — Reed.  April  12.) 

Dear  Papa, — I  received  a  day  or  two  ago  the  kind  letter  in 
which  you  inform  me  of  the  disposition  you  have  made  to  enable 
me  to  get  the  money  I  want,  and  for  which  I  sincerely  thank  you  ; 
your  letter  reached  me  just  as  I  was  driving  the  last  nail  into 
the  coffin  of  my  large  picture  ;  the  small  had  been  disposed  of 
in  like  manner  the  day  before.  Delighted  as  I  am  to  have  got 
them  at  last  off  my  hands,  yet  I  felt  a  kind  of  strange  sorrow 
at  seeing  them  nailed  up  in  their  narrow  boxes  ;  it  was  so  pain- 
fully like  shrouding  and  stowing  away  a  corpse,  with  the  exception, 
by-the-bye,  that  my  pictures  may  possibly  return  to  my  bosom 
long  before  the  Last  Judgment.  With  regard  to  the  success  of 
my  picture  with  its  little  Roman  public,  nearly  all  the  praise  that 
reached  my  ears  was  bestowed  behind  my  back,  so  that  whether 
intelligent  or  no,  I  have  good  reason  to  believe  it  was  sincere  ; 
indeed,  I  should  not  else  have  said  anything  about  it  ;  Cornelius, 
I  am  sincerely  sorry  to  say,  did  not  see  my  daubs  in  their  finished 
state  ;  he  was  prevented  by  ill-health  ;  however,  all  the  advice  he 
could  give  me  I  got  out  of  him  in  the  beginning,  and  indeed,  as 
you  know,  altered  about  a  dozen  figures  at  his  request  ;  in  points 
of  material  execution  he  is  utterly  incompetent  ;  I  am  happy  to  say 
that  he  feels  very  kindly  towards  me,  as  indeed  he  told  me  in  plain 
words,  and  added  on  one  occasion,  "  Sie  kdnnen  fiir  England  etwas 
bedeutendes  werden;"  I  need  not  tell  you  that  as  he  is  altogether 
without  apprehension  of  the  peculiar  and  very  great  merits  of  some 
of  our  artists,  he  considerably  overvalues  my  (relative)  value.  You 
ask  for  my  opinion  of  my  pictures  ;  you  couldn't  ask  a  more 
embarrassing  and  unsatisfactory  question  ;  I  think,  indeed,  that 
they  are  very  creditable  works  for  my  age,  but  I  am  anything  but 
satisfied  with  them,  and  believe  that   I   could  paint  both   of  them 


ROME  i8i 

better  n  ow  ;  I  am  particularly  anxious  that  persons  whom  I  love  or 
esteem  should  think  neither  more  nor  less  of  my  artistic  capacity 
than  I  deserve  ;  the  plain  truth  ;  I  am  therefore  very  circumspect 
in  passing  a  verdict  on  myself  in  addressing  myself  to  such  per- 
sons ;  I  think,  however,  you  may  expect  me  to  become  eventually 
the  best  draughtsman  in  my  country  ;  Gibson  and  Miss  Hosmer 
are,  as  you  expect,  amongst  those  who  praise  me,  but  I  warn 
you    that    they    are    both    utterly   without   an    opinion    in    matters 

pictorial.      Who  is  ?      He  is,  entre  nous,  the   worst  painter   I 

ever  saw,  but  also  the  greatest  toady,  in  virtue  of  which  quality  he 
makes  ^^5000  a  year  by  portraying  the  nobility  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland  ;  however,  towards  me  he  has  been  very  pleasant  and  nice, 
and  so  long  as  there  is  no  lord  in  the  way  he  is  a  sufficiently 
companionable  person.  I  certainly  feel  very  little  desire  to  have  my 
"  Cimabue  "  hung  in  the  little  room  you  speak  of,  but  I  fear  that 
I  must  take  my  chance  with  the  rest  ;  the  fact  is  that  although  I 
personally  have  taken  no  steps  in  the  matter,  still  <'  ces  messieurs  " 
will  not  be  unprepared  for  my  picture,  because  I  know  that  old 
Leitch  for  one  will  speak  to  them  about  it  and  will  do  everything 
that  is  friendly  ;  he  even  offered  to  varnish  it,  but  that  another 
friend  of  mine  has  already  undertaken.  One  thing  is  certain,  they 
can't  hang  it  out  of  sight — it's  too  large  for  that.  I  must  leave 
myself  room  to  write  afterwards  to  Mamma.  .  .  . 

...  I  am  glad  that  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  not  seeing 
me  as  soon  as  you  expected  ;  indeed  I  felt  sure  that  when  I 
told  you  all  the  reasons  which  concurred  to  make  me  prolong 
my  stay,  you  would  feel  the  force  of  them  ;  I  willingly  confess, 
too,  that  I  was  most  strongly  biassed  on  the  matter  by  my  reluct- 
ance to  part  from  my  friends,  but  particularly  hej'.  I  am  horrified 
at  the  use  you  make  of  the  words  "  indefinite  time  "  ;  I  shall  cer- 
tainly never  live  long  anywhere  without  going  to  see  them,  and 
I  trust  that  our  ''  intimes  relations "  will  not  cease  as  long  as  I 
live.  How  sorry  I  am  that  I  should  not  have  known  in  time 
that  Mrs.  Kemble  was  to  read  in  Bath  ;  I  should  have  liked  so 
to  introduce  you  to  her  ;  you  no  doubt  found  her  reading  a 
rare  treat.  How  beautiful  is  the  "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream " 
with  Mendelssohn's  music  !  This  reminds  me  of  dear  Gussy  and 
her   music  ;    I    suppose    her    new    master    is   a   good   one,   or   she 


1 82  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

would  not  have  taken  him  ;  generally  speaking  I  have  a  sovereign 
dislike  for  the  engeance  of  pianistes  with  their  eternal  jingle-tingles  at 
the  top  of  the  piano,  their  drops  of  dew,  their  sources,  their  fairies, 
their  bells,  and  the  vapid  runs  and  futile  conceits  with  which  they 
sentimentalise  and  torture  the  motive  of  other  men  ;  we  have  a 
specimen  here  in  the  shape  of  the  all-fashionable .   .   . 

Referring  to  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance,  he  continues  : — ; 

She  has  acquired  by  her  melancholy  and  sometimes  haughty 
moods  a  character  for  misanthropy  which  she  has  not  cared  to 
refute  ;  but,  my  good  sir,  she  is  DIVORCED  1  Poor  cowards  ! 
should  they  not  rather  gather  her  to  them,  and  "  weep  with  her 
that  weeps,"  Bible-wise  Pharisees  !  Your  letter  is  full  of  thrilling 
events  :  children  born  among  the  Australian  flocks  of  Mr.  Donald- 
son ;  little   ,   too,    taking   to   herself   a  husband — alas  for  the 

Laird  of  (probably)  Ballyshallynachurighawalymoroo !  I  m.ust 
think  of  answering  dear  Gussy's  note,  and  close  with  a  hearty  kiss, 
from  your  dutiful  and  affectionate  son,  Fred   Leighton. 

Dearest  Gussy, — Many  thanks  to  you  for  your  kind  note 
and  for  the  sympathy  and  interest  which  you  both  offer  and 
ask.  How  heartily  sorry  I  am  that  you  should  still  be  persecuted 
by  the  soreness  in  your  throat,  and  should  be  prevented,  poor 
dear,  from  singing  ;  you  who  have  the  rare  gift  of  that  which  is 
unteachable  and  without  which  the  most  brilliant  execution  is 
dumb  to  the  heart  ;  I  mean  musical  accent.  I  had  hoped  that 
we  should  sing  together,  but  I  fear  that  if  the  air  of  Bath  has 
such  a  bad  effect  on  the  throat,  I  shall  be  invalided  as  well  as 
yourself.  What  is  about  the  compass  of  your  voice  ?  or  (which 
is  more  important)  in  what  tessitura  do  you  sing  with  least  dis- 
comfort ?  that  I  may  see  whether  anything  I  sing  will  suit  us  ; 
unfortunately  most  part  of  my  limited  refertoire  consists  of  the  first 
tenor  part  in  quintettes  and  quartettes,  which  are  not  available 
for  us  two.  I  don't  know  whether  I  told  you  that  I  take  a  part 
in  Mrs.  Sartoris'  musical  evenings,  in  which  I  officiate  as  primo 
tenore ;  you  may  imagine  how  great  an  enjoyment  this  is  to 
me.      Dear  Gussy,  how  I  wish  you  could  hear  her  sing  !  it  would 


ROME  183 

enlarge  your  ideas  and  open  out  your  heart  ;  I  am  sadly  afraid, 
however,  that  she  won't  winter  in  Paris,  so  that  if  you  go  there 
you  must  make  up  your  mind  to  not  meeting  her  ;  but  if  you 
are  in  England  in  October  she  may  possibly  be  there  by  that 
time,  and  you  might  make  her  acquaintance  ;  if  I  sell  either  of 
my  pictures,  and  am  "  sur  les  lieux "  at  the  time,  I  will  take  you 
and  Lina  to  town  at  my  own  expense  and  introduce  you  to  the 
dearest  friend  I  have  in  the  world  ;  I  long  for  you  to  know  and 
love  one  another.  You  ask  me  whether  she  is  like  her  sister  ; 
in  expression,  sometimes,  strikingly  like  ;  in  feature,  not  in  the 
least.  She  is  the  image  of  John  Kemble,  with  large  aquiline 
nose  and  the  most  beautiful  mouth  in  the  world,  a  most  har- 
monious head,  and,  like  Fanny,  the  hair  low  down  on  her 
forehead  ;  artistically  speaking,  her  head  and  shoulders  are  the 
finest  I  ever  saw  with  the  exception  only  of  Dante's  ;  in  spite  of 
all  this,  many  people  think  her  barely  good-looking,  because  she 
has  no  complexion,  very  little  hair,  and  is  excessively  stout  ;  you 
will    be    more  discriminating.       I    am   amused   at   Mamma's  asking 

me    in    her    letter    whether    I    know   why did    not    know   the 

Sartoris  !  Pardi  !  I  did  not  introduce  them, — in  the  first  place 
I  have  been  obliged  to  make  a  rule  to  introduce  nobody  to  that 
house,  as  I  should  otherwise  become  a  nuisance  ;  people  have 
constantly  fished  for  introductions  knowing  my  intimacy  ;  but 
the  chief  reason  is  that  Mrs.  Sartoris  has  the  judgment  and 
courage  to  ask  to  her  house  nobody  but  those  she  likes  for  some 
reason  or  other,  for  which  reason  her  house  is  the  most  sociable 
in  the  world  ;  her  "  intimes "  are  a  complete  medley,  from  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  down  to  a  poor  artist  with  one  change  of 
boots,  but  all  agreeable  for  some  reason  ;  I  know  that  she  would 
be  kind  to  any  one  I  brought  to   her,   but    I   also  know  that   the 

s  would  have  been   in   the   way   and   a  corvee  to   her,  which 

fully  accounts,  &c.  &c. 

I  am  delighted,  dear  Guss,  that  you  have  a  music  master  to 
your  heart,  and  that  you  have  been  considered  worthy  to  play 
Bach's  Fugues,  which  are  indeed  monstrous  difficult.  With 
regard  to  the  pianistic  style  and  the  dewdrop-warbling  school, 
you  need  not  fear  that  /  should  throw  sour  grapes  in  your  teeth 
about  that  ;  Jranchement,  the after  all  is  commonplace  enough, 


1 84  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

and  the  ,  though  pretty,  hardly  deserves  such   an  epithet    as 

beautiful ;  as  for  the ,  it's  just  ludicrous.     Did  you  ever  hear 

piano-doodle  himself  ? 

I  was  rather  surprised  at  the  judgment  you  pass  on  Fanny 
Kemble's  reading  ;  if  anything  seems  at  all  coarse  in  it,  it  is 
occasional  bits  in  the  male  part,  and  that  only,  after  all,  because 
it  is  too  good  and  it  seems  discrepant  to  hear  male  harsh  sounds 
proceeding  from  the  mouth  of  a  woman.  With  regard  to  her 
women,  nothing  can  be  more  pathetic  and  touching  than  her 
Juliet,  or  indeed  all  the  women  I  have  heard  her  do  ;  there  is 
altogether  in  her  style  a  certain  amount  of  mannerism  belonging 
to  the  Kemble  school,  but  in  spite  of  all  that,  it  is  quite  un- 
approachable now  and  is  grand  in  the  extreme  ;  the  Ghost  in 
"  Hamlet"  is  quite  a  creation.  You  seem,  like  Mamma,  to  apologise 
almost  for  expressing  an  admiration  for  my  photograph  ;  do  you 
think,  dear,  that  I  don't  value  your  sympathy  irrespectively  of 
your  art  judgment  ?  I  shall  send  you  soon  two  photographs  of 
portraits  that  I  am  now  painting  ;  one  of  Mrs.  Sartoris,  the 
other  of  her  little  daughter  May.  I  must  close.  —  With  very 
best  love  to  all,   I   remain,  your  very  affectionate  brother, 

Fred  Leighton. 

The  change  Leighton  made  in  his  picture  at  the  request 
of  Cornelius,  mentioned  in  his  letter  to  his  father,  dated 
March  2,  1855,  can  be  seen  by  comparing  the  pencil  sketch 
of  the  complete  design  with  the  finished  painting  (see  List 
of  Illustrations).  It  consisted  in  his  making  the  Procession 
turn  at  the  left-hand  corner  to  face  spectator,  instead  of  filling 
in  this  space  and  giving  the  required  grouping  of  lines  partly 
by  the  foreshortened  horse  and  its  rider  which  we  find  in  the 
first  sketch.  In  the  Leighton  House  Collection  there  is  a  fine 
study  in  pencil  of  the  undraped  figure  of  the  man  riding 
which  is  not  included  in  the  final  design.  There  are  those 
who  remembered  the  picture  when  first  painted  in  Rome, 
also  at  the  Exhibitions  in  Trafalgar  Square  and  Burlington 
House,    who    were    of    opinion    that    it    was    never    seen    so 


ROME  185 

advantageously  as  on  the  occasion  when  the  King  lent  it 
for  exhibition  in  the  artist's  own  studio  in  Lei«.Thton  House 
in  the  year  1900,  and  many  seeing  it  there  exclaimed, 
"  Leighton  never  did  a  finer  thing ; "  and,  truly,  seen,  as  it 
was  then,  placed  across  the  end  of  the  glass  studio  under 
perfect  conditions  of  lighting  and  surroundings,  the  power 
and  originality  both  in  the  colouring  and  design  of  the  work 
were  very  striking  and  impressive.  Leighton's  friends  felt 
specially  grateful  to  the  King,  for  an  opportunity  having 
been  afforded  for  the  public  to  see  this  early  work  under 
such  favourable  and  appropriate  circumstances.  During 
those  months  when  the  picture  was  shown  at  Leighton 
House,  it  felt  as  if  the  very  spirit  of  the  young  artist,  at 
the  time  when  he  was  starting  on  his  notable  career,  had 
returned  and  was  haunting  the  home  of  his  later  years. 
From  the  end  of  the  large  studio,  looking  through  the 
darkened  passage  connecting  the  two  rooms,  the  procession 
verily  looked  alive,   a  tableau  vivant — no  mere  paintino-. 

One  of  the  salient  virtues  in  the  composition  lies  in  the 
happy  way  in  which  the  two  central  figures  take  a  separate 
important  position,  without  the  moving  on  of  the  procession 
being  interrupted  nor  their  attitudes  being  in  any  sense 
forced.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  by  their  absorbed,  modest 
demeanour,  which  contrasts  with  the  rest  of  the  gay  crowd, 
talking,  singing,  and  playing  musical  instruments  as  it  moves 
along,  that  the  sense  of  awe  and  reverence  felt  by  the  two 
artist  spirits  becomes  accentuated.  These  recognise  in  this 
public  ovation  bestowed  on  the  picture  of  their  beloved 
"Madonna  and  Child"  the  union  of  a  service  offered  both 
to  Art  and  to  Religion. 

The  happiness  Leighton  enjoyed  during  the  two  years 
when  this  subject  occupied  his  thoughts  seems  to  have  been 
reflected  in  the  vigour  of  the  actual  painting.  It  was  evidently 
finally    executed    with    an    exuberant    feeling    of    satisfaction. 


1 86  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Careful  studies  having  been  previously  made  for  every 
portion,  the  under-painting  itself  was,  as  he  writes  to  Steinle, 
completed  in  one  week,  and  the  canvas  once  attacked, 
there  appears  to  have  been  no  hitch  in  the  process  of  com- 
pletion. The  happy  balancing  of  masses,  the  grouping  of 
the  figures,  the  beauty  of  the  lines  throughout  the  crowded 
procession  are  admirable.  The  picture  was  admitted  by 
competent  judges  to  be  a  work  marked  by  a  distinct  indi- 
viduality, yet  possessing  "style,"  a  word  which  in  recent 
years  had  been  associated  in  England  with  art  that  lacked 
vigour  and  originality,  and  which  flavoured  solely  of  obsolete 
grooves  and  theories.  The  colour  is  richer  and  purer  than 
in  Leighton's  earliest  pictures,  and  arranged  cleverly  so  as 
to  give  full  importance  and  value  to  the  beautiful  white 
costume  worn  by  Cimabue.^  Sir  William  Richmond,  R.A., 
writes:  "  Impressions  of  early  years  are  not  easily  removed. 
As  a  boy  at  school  I  went  to  the  R.A.  Exhibition,  and  saw  for 
the  first  time  a  work  of  Leighton's,  the  procession  in  honour 

*  Ruskin  wrote  the  following  criticism  of  the  picture  when  it  was  first  exhibited  : 
"This  is  a  very  important  and  very  beautiful  picture.  It  has  both  sincerity  and 
grace,  and  is  painted  on  the  purest  principles  of  Venetian  art — that  is  to  say, 
on  the  calm  acceptance  of  the  whole  of  nature,  small  and  great,  as,  in  its  place, 
deserving  of  faithful  rendering.  The  great  secret  of  the  Venetians  was  their 
simplicity.  They  were  great  colourists,  not  because  they  had  peculiar  secrets 
about  oil  and  colour,  but  because  when  they  saw  a  thing  red  they  painted  it  red,  and 
.  .  .  when  they  saw  it  distinctly  they  painted  it  distinctly.  In  all  Paul  Veronese's 
pictures  the  lace  borders  of  the  tablecloths  or  fringes  of  the  dresses  are  painted 
with  just  as  much  care  as  the  faces  of  the  principal  figures  ;  and  the  reader  may 
rest  assured  that  in  all  great  Art  it  is  so.  Everything  in  it  is  done  as  well  as 
it  can  be  done.  Thus,  in  the  picture  before  us,  in  the  background  is  the 
Church  of  San  Miniato,  strictly  accurate  in  every  detail  ;  on  top  of  the  wall  are 
oleanders  and  pinks,  as  carefully  painted  as  the  church  ;  the  architecture  of  the 
shrine  on  the  wall  is  studied  from  thirteenth-century  Gothic,  and  painted  with 
as  much  care  as  the  pinks  ;  the  dresses  of  the  figures,  very  beautifully  designed, 
are  painted  with  as  much  care  as  the  faces  ;  that  is  to  say,  all  things  throughout 
with  as  much  care  as  the  painter  could  bestow.  It  necessarily  follows  that  what 
is  most  difficult  {i.e.  the  faces)  should  be  comparatively  the  worst  done.  But  if 
they  are  done  as  well  as  the  painter  could  do  them,  it  is  all  we  have  to  ask,  and 
modern  artists  are  under  a  wonderful  mistake  in   thinking   that   when    they  have 


ROME  187 

of  the  picture  by  Cimabue  in  Florence,  1855.  It  stood  out 
among  the  other  pictures  to  my  young  eye  as  a  work  so  com- 
plete, so  noble  in  design,  so  serious  in  sentiment  and  of  such 
achievement,  that  perforce  it  took  me  by  the  throat." 

Leighton  sent  a  photograph  of  the  picture  to  Steinle  with 
a  letter  dated   March    i. 

Translation.]  Rome,  Via  Felice  123, 

March  i,  1855. 

My  very  dear  Friend, — Although  since  my  last  letter  I 
have  had  no  news  of  you,  I  cannot  pass  by  this  moment,  so 
important  to  me,  without  giving  you  intelligence  of  it.  Yesterday 
I  at  last  sent  off  both  my  pictures,  the  large  one  to  London, 
the  small  one  to  Paris,  with  the  consignment  of  the  Roman 
Committee.  Thank  goodness,  at  last  I  have  got  them  off  my 
mind  !  And  how  sorry  I  am,  dear  Friend,  that  I  could  not  put 
the  finishing  touches  to  them  in  your  presence  !  Of  the  "  Cimabue," 
I  send  you,  in   two    pieces,  a  very  bad  photograph,  but  it  is  the 

painted  faces  ill,  they  make  their  pictures  more  valuable  by  painting  the  dresses 
worse. 

"The  painting  before  us  has  been  objected  to  because  it  seems  broken  up  in 
bits.  Precisely  the  same  objection  would  hold,  and  in  very  nearly  the  same  degree, 
against  the  best  works  of  the  Venetians.  All  faithful  colourists'  work,  in  figure- 
painting,  has  a  look  of  sharp  separation  between  part  and  part.  .  .  .  Although, 
however,  in  common  with  all  other  work  of  its  class,  it  is  marked  by  these  sharp 
divisions,  there  is  no  confusion  in  its  arrangement.  The  principal  figure  is  nobly 
principal,  not  by  extraordinary  light,  but  by  its  own  pure  whiteness  ;  and  both 
the  master  and  the  young  Giotto  attract  full  regard  by  distinction  of  form  and 
face.  The  features  of  the  boy  are  carefully  studied,  and  are  indeed  what,  from 
the  existing  portraits  of  him,  we  know  those  of  Giotto  must  have  been  in  his 
youth.  The  head  of  the  young  girl  who  wears  the  garland  of  blue  flowers  is  also 
very  sweetly  conceived." 

D.  G.  Rossetti  wrote  to  his  friend,  William  AUingham,  May  11,  1855  :  "There 
is  a  big  picture  of  Cimabue,  one  of  his  works  in  procession,  by  a  new  man,  living 
abroad,  named  Leighton — a  huge  thing,  which  the  Queen  has  bought ;  which 
every  one  talks  of.  The  R.A.'s  have  been  gasping  for  years  for  some  one  to  back 
against  Hunt  and  Millais,  and  here  they  have  him,  a  fact  that  makes  some  people 
do  the  picture  injustice  in  return.  It  was  very  interesting  to  me  at  first  sight ;  but  on 
looking  more  at  it,  I  think  there  is  great  richness  of  arrangement,  a  quality  which, 
when  really  existing,  as  it  does  in  the  best  old  masters,  and  perhaps  hitherto  in  no 
living  man — at  any  rate  English — ranks  among  the  great  qualities." 


1 88  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

best  that  could  be  made  within  four  walls  ;  from  it  you  will  only 
be  able  to  judge  generally  of  the  grouping,  for  as  regards  the 
colour,  which  comes  out  so  black  in  the  photograph,  in  the 
picture  it  is  altogether  clear  and  light.  You  will  certainly  be 
glad  to  hear  that  this  work  has  earned  much  praise  here  ;  I 
promised  that  you  should  not  have  to  be  ashamed  of  your  pupil. 
The  small  picture  is  so  dark  in  effect,  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  photograph  it  ;  but  as  I  suppose  you,  like  all  the  rest  of 
the  world,  will  visit  the  great  exhibition  in  Paris,  you  can  avail 
yourself  of  the  same  opportunity  to  see  my  daub, 

Gamba  is,  now  as  ever,  industrious,  tireless,  conscientious  ; 
his  picture  also  will  be  finished  in  a  few  weeks,  and  will  be  a 
great  credit  to  him  ;  I  only  wish  he  had  a  prospect  of  selling 
it,  but  at  present  the  sale  of  pictures  is  stagnant,  especially  in 
Piedmont,  where  the  art-loving  Queen-Mother  has  died.  He  will 
have  to  fight  hard  against  the  gigantic  pedantry  of  the  Turin 
Academy  and  College  of  Painters  [Malfacidtdt),  for  he  paints 
things  exactly  as  he  sees  them  in  nature ;  God  be  with  him ! 
Of  course,  he  sends  you  heartfelt  greetings.  Of  other  artistic 
doings  in  Rome  I  cannot  tell  you  much  ;  I  think  I  have  already 
told  you  that  I  look  upon  Rome  as  the  grave  of  art  ;  for  a 
young  artist,  I  mean,  for  whom  actively  suggestive  surroundings 
are  necessary.  As  regards  the  so-called  German  historical  art, 
that  is  not  much  of  a  joke  to  me  ;  when  men,  out  of  pure 
impotence,  throw  themselves  under  the  shield  of  noble  tendencies, 
in  order  to  make  mistaken  efforts  to  imitate  the  work  of  other 
painters,  they  are  simply  ridiculous  ;  but  when  men  are  en- 
dowed with  fine  natural  gifts,  and  nevertheless  out  of  sheer 
queerness  and  pedantry  go  altogether  astray,  then  I  only  feel  angry. 
God  forgive  me  if  I  am  intolerant,  but  according  to  my  view  an 
artist  must  produce  his  art  out  of  his  own  heart  ;  or  he  is  none. 

Dear  Master,  I  may  perhaps  pass  through  Frankfurt  on  my 
way  back  (in  June)  ;  I  should  like  beyond  all  things  to  see  you 
again,  you  and  your  works  that  are  so  dear  to  me.  Have  you 
painted  the  "  Death  of  Christ "  which  pleased  me  so  much  ? 
Write  to  me  if  you  have  time,  and  tell  me  how  things  go  with 
you.  Keep  a  friendly  recollection  of  your  grateful,  affectionate 
pupil,  Fred.  Leighton. 


ROME  189 

Translation.] 

Frankfurt  am  Main, 
March  20,  1855. 

Dear  Friend, — My  best  thanks  for  your  dear  lines  of  the 
ist  and  for  the  photographs,  with  which  you  afforded  me  the 
greatest  pleasure.  I  had  an  idea  that  I  should  receive  this  friendly 
remembrance,  and  I  hope  that  you  have  meanwhile  received  my 
letter  of  the  3rd  March.  I  know  the  difference  in  a  photograph 
of  a  painting,  and  the  often  quite  contrary  effect  of  the  yellow 
and  red,  too  well  to  be  deceived  by  a  dark  impression  ;  the  masses, 
their  distribution,  alike  in  the  groups  and  in  the  light  and  shade, 
the  outline  of  the  background,  most  of  the  single  figures,  all 
please  me  very  well,  and  you  could  not  believe  how  much  I 
rejoice  in  every  detail  in  which  I  recognise  my  Leighton,  and 
when  I  see  how  all  these  have  been  achieved  so  thoroughly  by 
industrious  study  and  artistic  culture.  You  have  indeed  prepared 
a  real  feast  for  me,  my  good  wishes  in  my  last  letter  were  quite 
the  right  ones,  and  the  recognition  which  you  have  obtained  in 
Rome  was  certainly  well  earned.  I  am  convinced  that  Overbeck 
was  heartily  pleased  with  your  pictures.  It  was  perhaps  my  im- 
agination, dear  friend,  when  I  thought  from  your  letter  that 
there  was  a  slight  cloud  between  us,  but  I  think  it  will  be  torn 
away  when  these  lines  reach  you.  The  fond  idea  of  being 
again  able  to  share  your  life  and  artistic  work,  I  must  relinquish,, 
for  I  am  an  exile,  and  besides  cannot  make  myself  familiar  with 
your  progress  as  an  artist  in  the  Fatherland.  Shall,  then,  your 
stay  in  Italy  be  ended  by  the  journey  which  you  led  me  to 
hope  would  bring  you  to  see  me  again  ?  But  I  forget  so  easily 
that  we  live  in  a  world  of  renunciations,  and  that  often  when 
we  believe  we  are  disposing,  we  are  disposed.  My  spirit  and  my 
love  will  always,  wherever  you  may  be,  be  with  you.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  probably  our  excellent  Gamba  would  not  send  his- 
great  picture  to  Paris,  and  yet  I  seem  to  have  heard  that  he 
intended  doing  so  ;  it  appears  to  me  that  exhibition  in  Paris 
would  give  the  picture  more  importance  than  in  Turin  ;  that 
Gamba  would  triumph  over  the  academic  formalities  in  Turin, 
I  do  not  doubt  in  the  least.  His  grandmother  and  all  his 
friends    await    him    here  ;    on    a    journey    to    Paris  ? — Now,    dear 


I90  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

friend,  one  more  request.  Ihlee  brought  from  Rome  some 
photographic  views,  with  which  I  and  the  friends  who  know 
Rome  are  truly  delighted  ;  the  worthy  Fran  Rath  Sclosser  wishes 
very  much  to  possess  a  selection  of  twelve,  I  myself  would  like 
to  have  at  least  three,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  bring  them 
with  you  in  June,  and  also  yourself  take  the  trouble  to  make  a 
really  beautiful  selection  ?  You  will  oblige  me  thereby  very 
greatly.  I  shall  rejoice  excessively  to  see  you  again,  and  wish 
much  that  your  stay  in  Frankfurt  need  not  be  so  short.  Re- 
member me  cordially  to  Gamba,  and  give  my  kindest  regards 
to  Altmeister  Cornelius.  My  wife  thanks  you  for  your  kind 
remembrance,  and  sends  many  greetings.  All  friends  here  have 
bidden  me  send  their  best  wishes  to  you  and  Gamba.  Adieu, 
dear  friend,   always  and  altogether  yours, 

Edw.  Steinle. 

Translation.'] 

Rome,  April  15,  1855. 

My  very  dear  Friend, — Only  a  day  or  two  after  I  sent  off 
my  letter  with  the  photograph,  I  received  your  dear  lines,  and 
now  I  have  also  the  letter  in  which  you  acknowledge  receipt  of 
mine,  so  that  I  am  well  off  for  news  of  you.  All  the  affection 
and  kind  sympathy  which  you  express  for  me  has  affected  me 
deeply,  and  I  look  forward  with  sincere  pleasure  to  the  moment 
when  I  shall  be  able  personally  to  express  my  gratitude  to  you  ; 
I  am  also  most  eager  to  see  the  drawings  of  the  completion  of 
which  you  tell  me  ;  judging  by  the  sketches,  I  expect  great  things 
from  this  composition,  so  rich  in  imagination ;  I  saw  the  first 
beginnings  of  it.  That  you  are  pleased  with  my  photograph 
rejoices  me  extremely,  but  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  not  mingled 
some  blame  with  the  praise  ;  you  say  that  most  of  my  figures 
please  you  well  ;  ergo,  some  of  them  do  not  ;  which  are  they  ? 
why  not  tell  me  all  ?  do  you  no  longer  regard  me  as  your  pupil  ? 
From  one  part  of  your  letter  I  understand  that  you  think  I  have 
had  a  great  deal  of  intercourse  with  good  old  Overbeck  ;  that  is 
not  so  ;  he  and  his  followers  one  does  not  see  at  all  unless  one 
belongs  to  their  clique  ;  Overbeck  has  never  been  within  my  four 
walls.  Cornelius  I  see  less  seldom,  but  not  very  often  ;  he  is  a 
very  charming  old  man,  so  cheerful  and  friendly,  and  is  of  great 


ROME 


191 


strength  ;  for  the  rest,  he  has  some  Httle  queernesses  ;  he  said 
to  me  once,  "  Yes,  Nature  has  also  her  style "  (!),  Does  that 
not  bespeak  a  curious  mental  development  ? 

Gamba  will  not,  as  it  happens,  send  his  picture  to  Paris,  it 
was  not  ready  in  time  ;  meantime,  it  is  being  exhibited  here  in 
the  Piazza  del  Popolo,  and  receives  the  applause  it  merits  ;  he 
sends  you  most  cordial  greeting. 

Yes,  indeed,  the  years  of  my  "  Italian  Journey"  are  now  ended  ! 
It  seems  but  yesterday  that  we  first  took  leave  of  one  another, 
and  you  encouraged  me  upon  my  setting  forth  ;  the  remembrance 
makes  me  sad  at  heart  ;  I  cannot  help  asking  myself  whether 
my  expectations  for  these  three  years  have  been  fulfilled :  and 
the  question  remains  unanswered. 

My  stay  in  Italy  will  always  remain  a  charming  memory  to  me  ; 
a  beautiful,  irrecoverable  time  ;  the  young,  careless,  independent 
time  !  I  have  also  made  some  friends  here  who  will  always  be  dear 
to  me,  and  to  whom  I  particularly  attribute  my  attachment  to  Rome. 

From  an  artistic  point  of  view  I  am  quite  glad  to  leave  Rome, 
which  I,  for  a  beginner,  regard  as  the  grave  of  art.  A  young 
man  needs  before  all  things  the  emulation  of  his  contemporaries  ; 
this  I  lack  here  in  the  highest  degree  ;  also  here  I  cannot  learn 
my  trade,  and,  notwithstanding  Cornelius,  I  am  of  opinion  that 
the  spirit  cannot  work  effectively  until  the  hand  has  attained 
complete  pliancy,  and  I  cannot  see  what  right  a  painter  has  to 
evade  the  difficulties  of  painting  ;  Cornelius  always  says,  "  Take 
care  that  the  hand  does  not  become  master  of  the  spirit,"  and 
that  sounds  well  enough  ;  however,  I  see  that,  in  consequence  of 
his  scheme  of  development,  he  has  not  once  succeeded  in  painting 
a  head  reasonably,  not  once  in  modelling  as  the  form  requires  ; 
and  that,  with  all  his  magnificent  talent !  Judge  the  tree  by  the 
fruit.  How  are  the  frescoes  of  Raphael  painted  and  modelled  ? 
and  the  Sixtine  Chapel  !  the  lower  part  of  the  "  Day  of  Judg- 
ment "  is  in  a  high  degree  colouristic  (Koloristisch).  Those  people 
took  nature  straight  from  God,  and  were  not  ashamed  ;  therefore 
their  art  was  no  galvanised  mummy. 

I  must  close.  Please  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your 
wife,  and  to  my  other  friends.  For  yourself,  keep  in  remembrance, 
your  grateful  and  affectionate  pupil,  Fred.  Leighton. 


192  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Steinle  answers  : — 

Translation.~\ 

Frankfurt  am  Main,  May  6,  1855. 

My  very  dear  Friend, — Hearty  thanks  for  your  friendly 
note  of  April.  The  photograph  of  your  picture  quite  pleases 
me  as  it  is,  and  if  I  am  particularly  pleased  with  the  details,  that 
is  to  cast  no  discredit  on  the  whole  ;  for  a  general  criticism  the 
photograph  does  not  give  me  sufficient  certainty,  and  I  must 
content  myself,  this  time,  with  expressing  the  pleasure  your  always 
well-composed  pictures  give  me.  You  know  your  picture,  and 
can  see  more  in  the  photograph  than  I.  What  you  say  about 
Overbeck,  Cornelius,  and  Rome,  I  understand  well,  and  I  am 
in  sympathy  with  much  of  it  ;  but  I  am  almost  beginning  to 
fear  you,  especially  as  I  particularly  feel  how  much  I  myself 
am  wanting  m  ground-work,  how  much  I  myself  belong  to  the 
same  evolution  as  these  two  men.  Custom,  circumstances,  and  the 
tendencies  of  the  times,  are  often  mitigating  facts  in  our  judgment 
of  these  painters  ;  they  have  fought  against  things  of  which  we 
no  longer  know  anything,  and,  as  participators  in  their  art,  we 
stand,  to  a  certain  extent,  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  them  ;  their 
delicacies  are  proofs  of  their  struggle,  and  the  characteristic  of 
youth  becomes  in  old  age  principally  a  sign  of  weakness.  Also 
experience  has  taught  me  not  to  let  myself  be  deceived  by  what 
is  called  "  cliquiness,"  I  grant  you  that  this  is  not  an  infallible 
judgment,  which  is  often  to  be  regretted,  but  people  nowadays 
are  weak,  and  I  have  found  that  cliques  often  have  a  greater 
tendency  for  good  than  those  judgments  which  make  more  noise, 
a  greater  outcry  than  the  fact  warrants.  Overbeck  has  always 
withdrawn  himself  too  much  ;  but  now,  dear  friend,  you  must 
attack  him  on  the  subject  before  you  leave  Rome.  Kindest  regards 
to  Gamba,  to  whom  I  wish  a  happy  completion  of  his  picture. 
My  wife  sends  best  greetings.      Always  and  altogether  yours, 

Edw.  Steinle. 

We  have  read  in  Leio-hton's  letters  the  effect  the  "  Cima- 
bue's  Madonna"  produced  on  his  friends   in  Rome,  and    how 


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ROME  193 

it  was  nailed  up  as   "in  a  coffin"   and   despatched    from    the 
Eternal  City,  where  it  was  destined  never  to  return. 

There  exists  a  small  long  envelope  edged  with  black, 
stained  horny  yellow  by  time,  the  head  of  Queen  Victoria 
on  the  postage  stamp.  It  was  despatched  from  England  to 
Rome  over  fifty  years  ago.  In  the  ardent  spirit  of  the  young 
artist  who  had  been  eagerly  awaiting  tidings  of  his  first  great 
venture,  what  a  tumult;  of  excitement  must  the  contents  of 
that  small  envelope  have  aroused!  They  brought  with  them 
a  conclusive  and  triumphal  end  to  all  arguments  with  his 
father  concerning  the  career  Leighton  had  chosen ;  they 
realised  the  sanguine  hopes  of  his  beloved  master,  Steinle, 
and  of  his  other  friends ;  last  not  least,  they  gave  him  the 
means  and  the  great  happiness  of  helping  his  fellow-artists. 
To  quote  again  from  the  record  of  one  who  was  with  him 
in  Rome  at  the  time:  "My  husband^  remembers  the  de- 
parture of  his  picture  'The  Triumph  of  Cimabue,'  sent  with 
diffidence,  and  so,  proportionate  was  the  joy  when  news  came 
of  its  success,  and  that  the  Queen  had  bought  it.  It  was  the 
month  of  May.  Rome  was  at  its  loveliest,  and  Leighton's 
friends  and  brother-artists  gave  him  a  festal  dinner  to  cele- 
brate his  honours.  On  receiving  the  news,  Leighton's  first 
act  was  to  fly  to  three  less  successful  artists  and  buy  a  picture 
from  each  of  them.  (George  Mason,  then  still  unknown, 
was  one.)  And  so  Leighton  reflected  his  own  happiness  at 
once  on  others." 

Translation.^ 

Rome,  123  Via  Felice, 
May  18,  1855. 

Dear  and  honoured  Friend, — As  with  everything  that  I 
receive  from  you,  I  was  delighted  to  get  your  dear  lines  of  the 
6th  ;  one  thing  only  in  them  grieved  me  a  little,  i.e.  that  what 
I   said   about   the  German    historical    painters  here  seems  to    have 

^  Sir  John  Leslie. 
VOL.   L  N 


194  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

rather  jarred  upon  you.  Was  I  then  so  intolerant  in  my  ex- 
pressions ?  I  hope  not.  You  say  that  you  are  almost  afraid  of 
me.  When  I  spoke  to  you  so  freely  of  the  others,  was  that  not 
a  plain  proof  of  how  completely  I  except  you  ?  You  assuredly 
know,  dear  Master,  how  and  what  I  think  of  you,  and  that  I 
ascribe  entirely  to  you  my  whole  aesthetic  culture  in  art.  Your 
commission  to  good  old  Overbeck  I  have  executed  as  well  as  I 
could.  I  found  him  much  more  cheerful  and  less  ailing  than 
before.  He  received  me  with  the  greatest  amiability  ;  we  spoke, 
amongst  other  things,  of  you,  and  I  perceived  that  he  had  it 
in  his  mind  to  go  soon  to  Germany  and  to  spend  a  couple  of 
weeks  in  Mainz  ;  I  should  like  to  be  the  first  to  give  you  this 
good  news. 

As  for  myself,  dear  Friend,  my  plans  are  once  more  quite 
upset.  My  father  has  hastily  recalled  me  to  England,  and  I 
am  sorry  to  say  that  I  must  consequently  give  up  going  to 
Frankfurt.  However,  I  have  not  neglected  your  commission. 
I  have  chosen  the  photographs,  and  you  will  receive  them  in 
the  beginning  of  next  month,  and  that  by  a  friend  of  mine  who 
will  be  passing  through  Frankfurt,  and  whom  I  hereby  introduce 
to  you.  Mrs.  Sartoris  is  my  dearest  friend,  and  the  noblest, 
cleverest  woman  I  have  ever  met  ;  I  need  not  say  more  to 
secure  her  a  cordial  welcome  from  you.  She  is  one  of  the 
celebrated  theatrical  family  of  Kemble.  It  is  now  ten  or  eleven 
years  since  she  left  the  stage,  but  she  is  still  the  greatest  living 
cantatrice.^ 

^  Mrs.  Richmond  Ritchie  gives  a  very  charming  account  of  her  first  introduction 
in  the  Rome  of  those  days  to  Leighton's  friend,  the  great  ca?itatrice,  Mrs.  Sartoris,  in 
the  preface  to  the  edition  of  "A  Week  in  a  French  Country  House,"  published  in 
1902.  Thackeray,  Mrs.  Ritchie's  father,  and  Charles  Kemble,  Mrs.  Sartoris' 
father,  had  been  old  friends.  Mrs.  Ritchie  says  :  "The  writer's  first  definite  picture 
of  her  old  friend  (Mrs.  Sartoris)  remains  as  a  sort  of  frontispiece  to  many  aspects 
and  remembrances.  We  were  all  standing  in  a  big  Roman  drawing-room  with 
a  great  window  to  the  west,  and  the  colours  of  the  room  were  not  unlike  sunset 
colours.  There  was  a  long  piano  with  a  bowl  of  flowers  on  it  in  the  centre  of 
the  room  ;  there  were  soft  carpets  to  tread  upon  ;  a  beautiful  little  boy  in  a  white 
dress,  with  yellow  locks  all  a-shine  from  the  light  of  the  window,  was  perched 
upon  a  low  chair  looking  up  at  his  mother,  who  with  her  arm  round  him  stood  by 
the  chair,  so  that  their  two  heads  were  on  a  level.  She  was  dressed  (I  can  see 
her   still)  in  a  sort  of  grey  satin  robe,  and  her  beautiful    proud  head  was  turned 


Reproduction  of  Letter  written  by  Sir  Charles  Eastlake,  P.R.A.,  to  Lord 
Leighton,  announcing  the  fact  that  Queen  Victoria  had  purchased 
his  picture,  **Cimabue*s  Madonna/*     1855. 


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ROME 


195 


You  will  certainly  be  glad  to  hear  that  on  the  first  day  of 
the   Exhibition  my  picture   was  bought  by  the  Queen. 

I  am  at  this  moment  in  the  thick  of  packing  ;  you  must 
excuse,  dear  Friend,  my  ending  so  abruptly.  I  will  write  again 
from   England. — Your  grateful  pupil,  Fred   Leighton. 

towards  the  child.  She  seemed  pleased  to  see  my  father,  who  had  brought  us 
to  be  introduced  to  her,  and  she  made  us  welcome,  then,  and  all  that  winter,  to 
her  home.  In  that  distant,  vivid  hour  (there  may  be  others  as  vivid  now  for  a 
new  generation)  Rome  was  still  a  mediaeval  city — monks  in  every  shade  of  black 
and  grey  and  brown  were  in  the  streets  outside  with  their  sandalled  feet  flapping 
on  the  pavement  ;  cardinals  passed  in  their  great  pantomime  coaches,  rolling  on 
with  accompaniment  of  shabby  cocked-hats  and  liveries  to  clear  a  way  ;  Americans 
were  rare  and  much  made  of ;  English  were  paramount ;  at  night  oil-lamps  swung 
in  the  darkness.  Many  of  the  ruins  of  the  present  were  still  in  their  graves  peace- 
fully hidden  away  for  another  generation  to  unearth ;  the  new  buildings,  the  streets, 
the  gas  lamps,  the  tramways  were  not.  The  Sartorises  had  fireplaces  with  huge 
logs  burning;  Mrs.  Browning  sat  by  her  smouldering  wood  fire;  but  we  in  our 
lodging  still  had  to  light  brazen  pans  of  charcoal  to  warm  ourselves  if  we  shivered. 
At  my  request  an  old  friend,  who  for  our  good  fortune  has  kept  a  diary,  opens  one 
of  his  pretty  vellum-bound  note-books,  and  evokes  an  hour  of  those  old  Italian 
times  from  the  summer  following  that  Roman  winter.  He  tells  of  a  peaceful 
Sunday  at  Lucca,  a  place  of  which  1  have  often  heard  Mrs.  Sartoris  speak  with 
pleasure  ;  Leighton  and  Hatty  Hosmer  and  Hamilton  Aide  himself  are  there ;  they 
are  all  sitting  peacefully  together  on  some  high  terrace  with  a  distant  view  of  the 
spreading  plains,  while  Mrs.  Sartoris  reads  to  them  out  of  one  of  her  favourite 
Dr.  Channing's  sermons.  Another  page  tells  of  a  party  at  Ostia.  '  Very  pleasant 
we  made  ourselves  in  a  pine  wood,'  says  the  diarist ;  '  I  walked  by  A.  S.'s  chaise- 
d-porteur  up  the  hills  later  in  the  evening  She  talked  of  her  past  life  and  all  its 
trials,  and  of  her  early  youth.'  Mrs.  Ritchie  in  her  preface  also  tells  of  this 
'past  life.' 

"The  Rue  de  Clichy  of  which  he  (Thackeray)  speaks  was  the  street  in  which 
Miss  Foster  lived,  under  whose  care  both  Fanny  and  Adelaide  Kemble  were 
placed,  when  they  successively  went  to  Paris.  Then  each  in  turn  came  out  and 
made  her  mark,  and  each  in  turn  married  and  left  the  stage  for  that  world  in 
which  real  tragedies  and  real  comedies  are  still  happening,  and  where  men  and  women 
play  their  own  parts  instinctively  and  sing  their  own  songs.  Adelaide's  short  artistic 
career  lasted  from  1835  to  1842,  long  enough  to  impress  all  the  subsequent  years 
of  her  life.  With  all  the  welcoming  success  which  was  hers,  there  must  have 
been  many  a  moment  of  disillusion,  discouragement,  and  suffering  for  a  girl  so 
original,  so  aristocratic  in  instinct,  so  quick  of  perception,  so  individual,  ''  De  la 
boheme  e.xquise^  as  some  great  lady  once  described  her.  The  following  page  out 
of  one  of  her  early  diaries  gives  a  vivid  picture  of  one  side  of  her  artistic  life  : 
'  .  .  .  Received  an  intimation  that  the  company  who  are  to  act  with  me  had 
arrived  at  Trieste,  and  would  be  here  at  eleven  to  rehearse  the  music.     At  twelve 


196  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

So  ended  the  first  page  of  Leighton's  life  as  an  artist  in 
the  Rome  of  the  fifties — a  very  different  Rome  to  that  of 
the  present.  The  atmosphere  was  still  steeped  in  those  days 
with  a  flavour  belonging  to  the  Papal  temporal  dominion,  and 
the  visible  life  still  picturesque  with  the  costumes  and  grandeur 
of  mediaeval  customs. 

came  Signer  Caranco  (the  director  of  the  music),  and  a  dirty-looking  little  object, 
who  turned  out  to  be  the  prompter.  After  they  had  sat  some  time  wondering 
what  detained  the  rest,  a  little  fusty  woman,  with  a  grey-coloured  white  petticoat 
dangling  three  inches  below  her  gown,  holding  a  thin  shivering  dog  by  a  dirty 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  followed  by  a  tall  slip  of  a  man,  with  his  hair  all  down 
his  back,  and  decorated  with  whiskers,  beard,  and  mustachios,  made  her  appearance. 
I  advanced  to  welcome  my  Adalgisa,  but  without  making  any  attempt  at  a  return 
of  my  salutation,  she  glanced  all  round  the  room  and  merely  said,  "  Come  fa  caldo 
qui  !  Non  c'fe  nessuno  ancora  ?  Andiamo  a  prendere  un  caffe,"  and  taking  the 
arm  of  the  hairy  man  retreated  forthwith.  Then  came  Signor  Gallo,  leader  of 
the  band,  then  the  tenor,  who  could  have  gained  the  prize  for  unwashedness 
against  'em  all — and  after  half-an-hour  more  waiting,  Adalgisa  and  the  hairy  one 
returned,  and  after  about  half-an-hour  more  arrived  my  bass,  and,  God  bless  him, 
he  came  clean  ! 

"We  then  went  to  work.  Adalgisa  could  think  of  nothing  but  her  dog,  who 
kept  up  a  continuous  plaintive  howl  all  the  time  we  sang,  which  she  assured  me 
was  because  it  liked  the  band  accompaniment  better  than  the  piano,  as  it  never 
made  signs  of  disapprobation  when  she  took  it  to  rehearsals  with  the  orchestra. 
She  also  informed  me  that  it  had  five  puppies,  all  of  which  it  had  nursed  itself,  as 
if  Italian  dogs  were  in  the  habit  of  hiring  out  wet  nurses.  .  .  ."'      And  again — 

"  I  can  remember  her  describing  to  us  one  of  these  performances,  and  her 
enjoyment  of  the  long  folds  of  drapery  as  she  flew  across  the  stage  as  Norma 
and  how  she  added  with  a  sudden  flash,  half  humour,  half  enthusiasm :  '  I  have 
everything  a  woman  could  wish  for,  my  friends  and  my  home,  my  husband  and 
my  children,  and  yet  sometimes  a  wild  longing  comes  over  me  to  be  back,  if  only 
for  one  hour,  on  the  stage  again,  and  living  once  more  as  I  did  in  those  early 
adventurous  times.'  She  was  standing  in  a  beautiful  room  in  Park  Place  when 
she  said  this.  There  were  high  carved  cabinets,  and  worked  silken  tapestries  on 
the  walls,  and  a  great  golden  carved  glass  over  her  head — she  herself  in  some  velvet 
brocaded  dress  stood  looking  not  unlike  a  picture  by  Tintoret." 


CHAPTER    III 

PENCIL   DRAWINGS   OF   PLANTS   AND    FLOWERS 

1850-1860 

No  attempt  at  an  appreciation  of  Leighton's  art  would  be 
complete  were  it  not  to  include,  and  even  accentuate,  the 
distinct  value  of  the  exquisite  drawings  of  flowers  and  leaves 
which  he  made  in  pencil  and  silver  point  between  the  years 
1852  and  1860.^  As  regards  certain  all-important  qualities 
these  studies  are  unrivalled.  I  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
drawings  Leighton  made  for  his  pictures  during  the  last 
twenty-five  years  of  his  life,  and  I  had  oftentimes  heard 
Watts  express  an  unbounded  admiration  for  these ;  but 
when,  looking  through  the  portfolios  of  early  drawings  after 
Leighton's  death,  I  came  upon  these  exquisite  fragments  in 
pencil,  it  seemed  that  I  had  found  for  the  first  time  the  real 
key  to  the  inner  chamber  of  his  genius.  As  reproductions  of 
the  beauty  in  line,  form,  and  structure — the  architecture,  so  to 
speak,  of  vegetation — nothing  ever  came  closer  to  Nature  re- 
vealed by  a  human  touch  through  a  treatment  on  a  flat  surface. 
On  December  22,  1852,  Leighton  writes  to  his  mother 
from  Rome  :  "  I  long  to  find  myself  again  face  to  face  with 
Nature,  to  follow  it,  to  watch  it,  and  to  copy  it,  closely, 
faithfully,  ingenuously — as  Ruskin  suggests,  '  choosing  nothing 
and  rejecting  nothing,' "  and  it  is  in  this  spirit  that  he  set 
to  work  when  he  filled  sketch-books  with  exquisite  studies 
of  the   flowers   and   plants  he   loved   best.      These  records  of 

^  See  Appendix,  Vol.  I.,  description  in  Preface  to  "Catalogue  of  the  Leighton 

House  Collection." 

197 


198  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

the  joy  with  which  Nature  filled  his  artistic  temperament  are 
to  some  more  truly  sympathetic  than  his  elaborate  work,  for 
the    reason    that,    while    enjoying    their    beauty,    we    come    in 
contact   with   the   pure   spirit   of   Leighton's   genius   unalloyed 
by  any  sense  of  intellectual  effort.      In  his  diary,   "  Pebbles," 
on    August    21,    1852,    Leighton    writes:     "Of   the    Tyrolese 
themselves,   three  qualities  seem  to  me  to  characterise  them, 
qualities   which  go   well    hand   in   hand  with,  and,    I    think  it 
is   not   fanciful   to   say,  are  in   great  measure  a  key    to,   their 
well-known    frankness    and    open-hearted    honesty.       I    mean 
Piety,   which  shines  out  amongst  them   in  many  true  things, 
a  love  for  the  art,   which   with   them   is,   in  fact,  an   outward 
manifestation  of  piety,  and  which  is  sufficiendy  displayed  by 
the  numberless  scriptural  subjects,  painted  or  in  relief,  which 
adorn    the    cottages    of    the    poorest    peasants  .   .  .  and    last, 
not   least,    a   love    for    flowers    (in   other  words,  for    Nature), 
which  is  written  in  the  lovely  clusters  of  flowers  which  stand 
in   many-hued  array   on   the   window-sills    of   every    dwelling. 
The   works   of  all    the    really  great    artists    display   that   love 
for   flowers.      Raphael    did    not    consider    it     "niggling,"    as 
some  of  our  broad-handling  moderns  would  call   it,  to  group 
humble  daisies  round  the  feet  of  his  divine  representation  of 
the    Mother  of   Christ.      I    notice   that   Hvo  plmtts,   especially, 
produce  a   beautiful   effect,   both   of  form   and   colour,   against 
the  cool   grey   walls  ;    the  spreading,   dropping,   graceful    car- 
nation,  with   its   bluish  leaves  and   crimson    flowers,    and    the 
slender,    antlered,    thousand-blossomed    oleander.''       No    exact 
name  has  ever  been  given  to  the  special  creed  of  the  artist's 
religion  ;    to    that    condition    of  the    soul    which    Socrates    in 
Plato's   PhcBdrus  declares   has   come    to    the    birth    as    having 
seen  most  of  truth  together  with  that  of  the  Philosopher,  the 
Musician,    and    the     Lover.       The    artist    penetrates    further 
than   others   can,    into   the   mysteries  of  Nature's    marvels   as 
revealed   through   the   eye,  and   he   therefore   comes  in  closer 


DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS   AND    FLOWERS       199 

union  through  the  sense  of  sight  with  the  spirit  of  the 
artist  of  the  infinite,  and  can  gauge  better  the  immeasurable 
distance  which  exists  between  Divine  and  human  creation, 
and  this  is  felt  more  distinctly,  more  reverently,  when  the 
artist  simply  copies  Nature  than  when  his  own  daemon  is 
taking  a  part  in  the  inspiring  of  his  inventions. 

Leighton  writes  to  his  mother  when  he  first  reaches  Rome 
in  1852  :  "I  wish  that  I  had  a  mind,  simple  and  unconscious, 
even  as  a  child "  ;  and  we  find  the  evidence  in  these  studies 
by  Leighton  of  plants  and  flowers  that  his  wish,  for  the  time 
when  he  was  drawing  them,  was  granted ;  no  intellectual 
choice  nor  assumption  of  scholarly  theories  have  taken  part 
in  their  achievement ;  they  are  spontaneous  echoes  of  Divine 
creations  when  he  was  "face  to  face  with  Nature,"  and  there 
is  no  reflection  of  any  teaching  but  hers.  Nature  and  her 
child  have  been  alone  together.  The  results  are  unalloyed 
expressions  of  the  joy  he  felt  in  pure  impersonal  revelations  of 
beauty.  They  are  distinguished  because  elemental,  recording 
the  birth  of  the  ingenuous  response  of  a  human  spirit  to  a 
superhuman  perfection  of  workmanship.  When  in  such  union 
of  spirit  with  Nature,  the  artist-soul  enters  his  most  sacred 
shrine.  An  ecstatic  joy  is  kindled  by  wonder,  admiration, 
adoration,  from  which  joy  is  inspired  a  peremptory  impulse  to 
endeavour  to  reproduce  in  his  human  handicraft  the  marvels 
of  creation.  Such  experiences  result  from  instinctive  inevit- 
able conditions,  and,  coming  from  the  illumination  of  genius, 
belong  to  a  higher  level  than  that  on  which  the  intellect  works  ;^ 

1  An  artist  who  was  a  great  flower  lover,  when  relating  her  experiences,  main- 
tained that  it  was  in  the  revelation,  to  her  perceptions,  of  the  infinite  perfection  of 
the  structure  and  form  of  one  flower,  that  she  had  realised  in  her  own  nature 
a  more  intimate  recognition  and  response  to  that  of  the  Creator  of  the  Infinite 
than  had  ever  been  elicited  by  any  church  services  or  creeds,  or  even,  in  fact,  by 
the  most  sublime  scenery.  In  one  small  flower  she  had  found  an  epitome  of  the 
wonders  and  beauties  of  all  creation,  so  focussed  as  to  be  grasped  closely,  and 
responded  to,  from  the  innermost  intimate  recesses  of  her  nature  with  a  joy  un- 
speakable. 


200  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

no  temptations  of  the  personal  daemon  simmer  behind  and 
distort  the  pure  vision  of  Nature,  provoking  suggestions 
which  are  human  of  the  human — the  desire  to  excel,  the 
ambition  to  be  first,  the  love  to  display  individuality.  That 
inner  life,  the  very  core  and  most  vital  meaning  of 
Leighton's  being,  the  life  that  held  revelry  with  all  Nature's 
beauty,  had  been  enraptured  through  the  pure  innocent 
loveliness  in  the  flowers.  Take,  for  instance,  the  page 
where  he  has  explamed  the  cylcamen  he  found  at  Tivoli 
in  October  1856,  and  take  a  cyclamen,  the  real  flower,  and 
dissect  it.  What  precious  work  we  find  :  the  ribbed  calyx 
spreading  out  from  the  satin  sheen  of  the  stalk  to  clasp  the 
bulbous  swelling  at  the  root  of  the  petals  —  brilliant  like 
finest  blown  glass,  each  calyx  fringed  round  with  emerald 
green  flutings  —  inside  straw  colour  dashed  with  brown 
speckles,  all  this  triumph  of  minute  finish  just  to  start  the 
sail-like  petals  of  the  flower  itself.  What  reverence  and 
enthusiasm  was  excited  in  Leighton  as  he  pored  over  such 
things  is  vouched  for  by  this  page  (and  others  similar  of 
different  flowers),  exquisite  portraits  of  every  view  of  the 
clycamen  ;  faint  notes  in  writing  recording  the  colours  which 
his  pencil  failed  to  do. 

Referring  to  his  journey  through  the  Tyrol,  in  1852, 
Leighton  writes :  "  I  had  been  dwelling  with  unwearied 
admiration  on  the  exquisite  grace  and  beauty  of  the  details, 
as  it  were,  of  Nature ;  every  little  flower  of  the  field  had 
become  to  me  a  new  source  of  delight ;  the  very  blades  of 
grass   appeared  to  me  in  a  new  light." 

Not  only  his  artistic  temperament,  but  also  circumstances, 
had  guided  Leighton's  instincts  into  the  worship  of  beauty 
beauty  such  as  can  be  conceived  alone  by  the  artistic  tem- 
perament— as  the  divinest  element  in  creation  and  one  to 
be  reverenced  beyond  all  others;  and  when  "face  to  face" 
with  Nature,   having    no  desire  but    to  record  that  reverence 


STUDIES  OF  CYCLAMEN.     Tivoli,  October  1856 
Leighton  House  Collection 


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WREATH  OF  BAY  LEAVES 
Dfawn  at  the  Bagni  di  Lucca,  1854.    Leighton  House  Collection 


DRAWINGS   OF   PLANTS   AND   FLOWERS       201 

and  worship  "ingenuously,"  he  made  these  incomparable  draw- 
ings. They  were  done  solely  for  the  sake  of  the  joy  he  felt 
in  doing  them,  and  Leighton  certainly  never  expected  any 
recognition  of  their  beauty  by  a  future  generation.  Stray 
leaves  from  a  sketch-book  have  been  collected  and  preserved 
in  the  Leighton  House  Collection,  having  been  extracted 
from  a  mass  of  old  dusty  papers.  On  these  pages  are  ex- 
quisite pencilled  outlines  of  cyclamen,  of  a  crocus,  of  oleander 
flowers,  of  a  bramble  branch,  of  sprays  of  bay  and  of  plants 
of  the  agaves.  They  are  dated  the  year  after  Leighton's 
great  success,  1856,  the  year  of  his  failure.  In  1854,  when 
he  spent  the  summer  at  the  Bagni  di  Lucca,  he  drew  studies 
of  bay-leaves  twined  into  a  wreath  and  festoons  of  the  vine 
(see  List  of  Illustrations  and  design  on  cover).  Three  days 
after  Leighton's  death,  in  a  letter  to  The  Times  from  one 
who  knew  him,  a  reference  was  made  to  this  visit  to  Lucca.^ 
This  old  acquaintance,  who  was  then  seeing  him  daily  for 
three  months,  writes,  "  He  was  the  most  brilliant  man  I 
ever  met."  It  was  this  brilliant  entity,  this  attractive  person- 
ality, who  spent  hours  over  drawing  the  flower  of  a  pumpkin 
and  of  a  ''faded  pumpkift"  Professor  Aitchison  records  how 
he  found  Leighton  at  work  over  this  drawing."  The  cele- 
brated "  Lemon  Tree,"  to  which  Professor  Aitchison  refers, 
and  of  which  Ruskin  also  writes,^  though  the  most  renowned 
of  Leighton's  drawings  of  plants,  and  doubtless  a  tour  de 
force, — a  wonderful  achievement, — has  not,  I  think,  the 
same  perfection  of  charm  which  many  of  the  earlier,  less 
complete    studies    possess.*      The    sketch    of   a    portion    of   a 

'  See  Appendix,  Vol.  I.,  Preface  to  "Catalogue  of  the  Leighton  House  Col- 
lection." 

^  See  Appendix,  Vol.  I.,  "  Lord  Leighton,  P.R.A.,  Some  Reminiscences." 

3  Appendix,  Vol.  L 

*  Ruskin  was  mistaken  in  thinking  that  the  "Lemon  Tree"  and  the  "Byzan- 
tine Well"  are  of  the  same  date.  The  former  drawing  was  made  in  1859,  the 
latter    seven    years   earlier    in    1852    (reproduced   facing  page   80),  and   is  referred 


202  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

deciduous  tree^  is  perhaps  a  greater  triumph  in  draughts- 
manship than  even  the  "  Lemon  Tree,"  because  the  foliage 
has  a  frailer  and  less  definite  aspect,  and  is  yet  repro- 
duced with  an  absolute  certainty  of  outline.  The  "  Lemon 
Tree,"  drawn  at  Capri  in  1859,  was  done  for  a  purpose. 
Leighton  had  a  feeling  that  the  pre-Raphaelites  ought  not 
to  have  it  all  their  own  way  on  the  score  of  elaborate  finish 
and  perfection  in  the  drawing  of  detail.  My  first  introduc- 
tion to  the  "  Lemon  Tree"  was  on  an  occasion  when  Leighton 
and  I  had  had  an  argument  respecting  the  principles  of  the 
pre-Raphaelite  school.  He  fetched  the  drawing  from  a  corner 
in  his  studio,  and,  while  showing  it  to  me,  said  words  to 
the  effect  that  it  was  not  only  the  pre-Raphaelites  who 
reverenced  the  detail  in  Nature,  and  who  thought  it  worth 
the  time  and  labour  it  took  to  record  the  beauty  in  the 
wonderful  minutiae  of  her  structure.  If  sufficient  pains  were 
taken,  any  one,  he  maintained,  who  could  draw  at  all  ought 
to  be  able  to  draw  the  complete  detail  of  every  object  set 
before  him.  But,  for  the  very  reason  that  the  "  Lemon 
Tree "  was  done  with  a  further  purpose  than  the  mere 
joy  the  beauty  of  Nature  excited  in  Leighton's  aesthetic 
senses,  there  is  not,  I  think,  quite  the  same  convincing 
charm  in  this  drawing  as  in  some  other  more  fragmentary 
studies. 

In  considering  this  early  work  by  Leighton,  it  should  be 
borne  in  mind,  that  in  those  years  when  it  was  executed, 
photography  had  not  yet  given  the  standard  of  a  finish  and 
perfection  in  actual  delineation  which  outrivals  every  record 
made  by  human  hand  and  eye.  Photography  has,  in  these 
later  years,  given  the  proportion  and  detail  in  beautiful  archi- 
tecture, the  form  of  trees,  plants,  and  flowers,  their  exquisite 
delicacy  of  structure,  their  grace  and  intricacy  of  line  :  all  this 

to  in  his  diary,  "  Pebbles."  I  think  this  is  the  most  beautiful  drawing  of  the 
kind  I  have  ever  seen. 

^  See  List  of  Illustrations. 


STUDY  OF  LEMON  TREE,     Capri,  1859 
By  permission  of  Mr.  S.  Pepys  Cockerell 


STUDY  OF  DECIDUOUS  TREE 

Leighton  House  Collection 


«^   f>'- 


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DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS   AND    FLOWERS       203 

has  been  secured  and  pictured  for  us  by  the  camera  ;  and,  up 
to  a  certain  point,  very  precious  and  truthful  are  these  memor- 
anda of  the  aspects  of  nature  and  art.  Many  of  us  remember 
the  days  when  enthusiastic  disciples  of  the  wonderful  new 
art  of  photography  prophesied  that  no  other  would  soon  be 
needed,  and  that  the  draughtsman's  craft  would  before  long 
cease  to  exist.  And  further,  they  maintained  it  only  required 
the  discovery  of  a  means  to  photograph  colour  for  the  painter's 
art  also  to  be  demolished.  Artists,  however,  knew  better. 
What  was  valuable  in  the  records  of  photography,  and  what 
was  of  most  intrinsic  worth  in  the  records  created  through 
means  of  the  human  hand  and  eye,  were  absolutely  incom- 
parable quantities.  The  treatment  of  nature  in  a  photographic 
picture,  however  admirable  and  complete,  must  always  be  lack- 
ing in  the  evidence  of  any  preference,  reverence,  or  enthusiasm 
— in  the  sacred  fire,  in  fact,  which  inspires  the  draughtsman's 
pencil  and  the  painter's  brush.  Photography  is  indiscriminate  ; 
human  art  is  selective,  and  is  precious  as  it  evinces  and 
secures  a  choiceness  in  selection.  However  truthfully  a  photo- 
graph may  record  beauty  of  line  and  form  in  nature,  it 
inevitably  also  records  in  its  want  of  discrimination  any  facts 
which  may  exist  in  the  view  photographed  ;  these  counter- 
balance the  effect  of  such  beauty,  and  mar  the  subtle  im- 
pression of  charm  which  scenes  in  nature  produce  on  a  mind 
sensitive  to  beauty. 

As  the  vision  of  the  artist  which  attracts  this  feeling  for 
beauty  focalises  itself  in  the  sight,  he  naturally  perceives  but 
vaguely  any  other  objects  before  him  ;  therefore,  the  facts  in- 
spired by  such  preference  become  accentuated,  and  all  their 
surroundings  subordinated  to  it.  For  this  reason,  also,  what 
is  called,  somewhat  erroneously,  the  sculptor's  sense  of  line 
and  form — the  sense  applying  equally  to  the  treatment  of 
line  and  form  on  a  flat  surface  as  in  the  round — is  not  so 
obvious  in  a  photograph  as  in  a  good   drawing.     The  eye  of 


204  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

one  possessing  a  gift  for  drawing  transmits  to  the  brain  the 
structure  of  an  object,  not  only  as  it  is  outlined  against  other 
objects,  but  also  as  the  different  planes  of  which  it  is  formed 
recede  or  advance,  slant  one  way  or  another,  curve  or 
straighten.  To  a  truly  gifted  draughtsman,  such  as  Leighton, 
there  is  an  absorbing  interest  in  working  out  the  forms  of  the 
objects  he  sees  which  delight  his  sense  of  beauty, — of  guiding 
his  pencil  so  that  it  echoes  on  the  paper  the  gratification  with 
which  his  senses  are  inspired  through  his  artistic  perceptions. 
The  result  will  be — that  the  drawing  he  produces  almost  un- 
consciously accentuates  what  has  delio-hted  him  most  in  the 
objects  he  is  depicting,  and,  explaining  further  than  does  even 
an  actual  copy  by  photography  the  element  of  beauty  which 
has  inspired  him,  carries  with  it  also  an  inspiring  effect  on  the 
spectator:  the  drawing  will  have  something  in  it  which  affects 
us  as  a  living  influence,  an  influence  which  the  most  perfect  of 
photographs  can  never  possess.  The  actual  perspective  may  be 
absolutely  correct  in  the  photograph — so  may  be  the  placing 
on  the  paper  of  every  turn  and  twist  in  a  bough  or  a  leaf  as 
regards  their  outlines  ;  but  compared  to  a  beautiful  drawing 
we  feel  the  want  of  mind  behind  it :  no  human  sense  has 
revelled  in  the  intricacies  of  growth  and  foreshortening,  no 
human  eye  has  traced  the  exquisite  grace  and  sweep  of  the 
curve  and  the  happy  spring  of  the  shoot  alive  with  uprising 
sap.  Just  that  accentuation  which  unwittingly  creeps  into  the 
human  touch,  denoting  that  the  construction  of  the  form  has 
been  perceived  and  appreciated  with  delight,  is  lacking.  The 
line  of  a  pathway  rising  up  on  the  sweep  of  an  upland,  a  line 
which  is  always  so  fascinatingly  suggestive,  does  not  lead 
you  farther  over  the  hill  in  a  photograph  as  it  does  in  a  little 
woodcut  by  William  Blake.  Just  that  push  and  movement 
is  wanting  in  the  sense  of  the  line  which  in  a  really  fine 
drawing  gives  it  a  living  quality.  Another  shortcoming  is 
caused  by  the   inevitable   flattening  of  tone  in  a  photograph. 


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DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS   AND   FLOWERS       205 

The  brightest  Hght  does  not  detach  itself,  the  darkest  spot, 
to  some  degree  always,  even  in  the  best  print,  is  merged  in 
the  general  shadow. 

The  idea  that  photography  could  supersede  the  art  of  the 
draughtsman  soon  exploded.  Artists  have  used  photography — 
some  intelligendy,  as  did  Watts — many  unintelligently.  The 
illeo-itimate  use  of  photography,  the  endeavour  to  make  the 
lens  do  the  work  which  alone  the  human  eye  and  hand  can 
effect,  was  seen  in  lifeless  portraits,  painted  partly  from  the 
sitter,  partly  from  a  photograph.  It  is  natural  that  any  genuine 
artist  should  rebel  against  such  cheapening  of  his  art ;  and  the 
deadening  effects  of  relying  on  photography  "to  help  you  out" 
have  brought  about  the  result  that  the  qualities  in  art  which 
are  furthest  removed  from  those  which  it  has  in  common  with 
photography  have  been  forced  to  the  front,  and  the  grammar 
of  drawing,  the  groundwork  of  nature's  structures  which  the 
human  hand  and  the  photographic  lens  can  both  record, 
has  ceased  to  be  considered  as  all-important.  In  Leighton's 
work  this  grammar  was  in  itself  developed  into  a  fine  art. 
By  comparing  any  sketch  he  made  of  a  leaf  or  of  a  flower 
with  a  photograph  of  the  same,  this  will  be  evident  to  any 
eye  that  can  appreciate  grace  and  quality  in  drawing. 

The  latest  phase  of  using  photography  to  help  out  the 
drawing  is  found  in  some  modern  illustrations  where  the  lens 
has  found  the  outline,  the  right  placing  of  the  scene  on  the 
paper,  the  right  proportion  and  perspective  in  buildings,  and 
the  general  light  and  shade  of  the  scene  for  the  illustrator — 
the  human  hand  only  coming  in  to  give  breadth  of  effect,  to 
undo  the  tell-tale  finish  of  the  photograph,  and  to  make  it 
into  what  is  called  "a  picture"  on  the  lines  of  a  Turner  or 
a  Whistler. 

All  these  were  unknown  ways  in  Leighton's  youth,  and 
to  the  end  of  his  life  he  could  make  no  use  whatever  of  photo- 
graphy in  his  work.      He  took  a  kodak  with  him  once  on  his 


2o6  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

travels,  but  the  results  were  amusingly  negative.  "  From  the 
moment  an  artist  relies  on  photography  he  does  no  good," 
was  a  statement  I  heard  him  make.  Leio;hton  believed  in 
no  short  cuts.  Enthusiasm,  labour,  sacrifice,  renouncement, 
— these,  and  these  alone,  he  maintained,  can  secure  for  the 
artist  a  worthy  success. 

There  are  those  who  would  define  genius  by  describing 
it  as  the  faculty  for  taking  infinite  pains.  But  obviously 
genius  is  in  itself  a  power,  born  of  inspiration,  which  so 
completely  overmasters  all  other  conditions  in  a  nature,  that 
no  labour  nor  time  is  taken  into  account  so  long  as  the 
impelling  force  obtains  utterance.  The  inborn  conviction 
in  a  nature  that  it  has  the  power  to  create,  demolishes  all 
impediments  which  come  in  the  way  to  hinder  this  power 
from  stamping  itself  into  a  form.  The  necessity  of  taking 
infinite  pains  is  but  the  natural  and  inevitable  consequence 
of  the  burning  desire  born,  who  knows  how  ?  in  the  spirit 
of  those  who  are  blessed  with  genius,  and  the  faculty  to 
discern  how  best  to  develop  it.  Leighton,  by  reason,  per- 
haps, of  the  very  spontaneity  of  his  own  gifts,  and  also  of 
his  extreme  natural  modesty,  allied  to  the  conscientiousness 
with  which  he  carried  out  his  feeling  of  duty  towards  his 
vocation,  was  apt  to  lay  more  stress  on  the  necessity  for 
taking  pains  than  on  the  necessity  of  possessing  the  real 
source  of  his  power  of  industry.  He  saw  too  often  the 
fatal  results  of  artists  depending  on  talent  to  achieve  what 
only  talent  allied  to  industry  can  perform,  for  him  not  to 
accentuate  the  all  -  importance  of  unceasing  labour.  He 
wrote  to  his  elder  sister  with  reference  to  one  of  these  fatal 
results :  "I  have  not  seen  that  young  man's  recent  work, 
neither  do  I  hunger  and  thirst  thereafter  ;  twenty-one  years 
ago,  or  more,  his  parents  brought  me  a  composition  of  his — 
it  justified  the  highest  hopes — it  was  very  ambitious  in  its 
scope   (though   the   work    of  a  child),   and    the    ambition   was 


STUDY  OF  A  FADED  FLOWER  OF  PUMPKIN.    Rome,  1854 

Leighton  House  Collection 


STUDY  OF  FLOWER  OF  A  PUMPKIN.     Meran,  1856 

Leighton  House  Collection 


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STUDIES  OF  BRANCHES  OF  VINE.    Bagni  di  Lucca,  1854 

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DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS   AND    FLOWERS       207 

justified  in  the  ability  it  displayed.  Nothing  that  I  could 
have  done  at  his  age  approached  it.  I  told  his  parents  so. 
He  ought  now  to  have  been  a  very  considerable  artist,  to 
say  the  least — he  no  longer  even  aims!  He  told  me  a  year 
or  two  ago  that  he  had  ceased  to  design  !  He  paints  portraits, 
and  twists  a  little  moustache  under  an  eyeglass.  He  is 
nothim,  as  far  as  the  world  knows,  and  I  doubt  whether  he 
is  hiding  himself  under  a  bushel.  I  fear  vanity  and  idleness 
have  rotted  out  his  talents.  It  is  a  strange  and  a  sad  case. 
I  often  quote  it  (without  names)  to  those  who  show  precocious 
gifts."  His  attached  friend  and  fellow-Academician,  Mr.  Briton 
Riviere,  writes  of  Leighton  : — 

"  I  have  always  believed  that  his  ruling  passion  was  Duty 
— the  keenest  possible  sense  of  it ;  to  do  anything  he  had 
to  do  as  perfectly  as  possible,  and  to  be  always  at  his  best. 
He  was  evidently  a  believer  in  Goethe's  maxim  that  'an 
artist  who  does  anything,  does  all'  In  his  own  work,  in 
what  concerned  his  colleagues  and  the  outside  body  of  artists, 
in  fact  in  everything  he  did.  Nothing  easily  or  passively 
done  satisfied  him  ;  but  in  every  case  the  decision  and  action 
were  brought  by  care  and  work — if  possible,  executed  by  him- 
self ;  and  no  pressure  of  time  or  labour  ever  made  him 
escape  such  personal  trouble,  or  caused  him  to  transfer  it  to 
the  shoulders  of  another.  This  temper  of  mind  was  shown 
even  in  small  matters,  which  so  busy  a  man  might  well  have 
left  for  others  to  do.  I  think  it  sometimes  injured  his  own 
work  as  an  artist,  because,  though  a  great  artist  can  never 
be  evolved  except  by  years  of  patient  work  and  strenuous 
effort  to  do  his  very  best  always,  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
is  often  the  happy,  easy  work  and  absolutely  spontaneous 
effort  at  the  moment  by  such  a  hand  which  is  his  very  best. 
Such  happy,  easy  work  probably  Leighton  would  seldom 
allow  himself  to  do,  and  never  would  leave  at  the  right 
moment,    but    would     still     strive    to    make    better    and    more 


2o8  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

complete.  He  must  still  elaborate  it  and  try  to  make  lit 
more  perfect;  and  this  it  was  which  made  his  old  friend 
and  enthusiastic  admirer,  Watts,  sometimes  say  "how  much 
finer  Leitrhton's  work  would  be  if  he  would  admit  the  acci- 
dental  into  it." 

I  remember  once  casually  remarking  to  Leighton  how 
much  easier  writing  was  than  painting.  He  answered 
quickly  but  seriously  —  quite  impressively:  "Believe  me, 
nothing  is  easy  if  it  is  done  as  well  as  you  can  possibly 
do  it."  This  was  Leighton's  creed  of  creeds.  Whatever 
genius  or  facilities  an  artist  may  possess,  he  must  ignore 
them  as  factors  in  the  fight.  He  must  possess  them  uncon- 
sciously— the  whole  conscious  effort  being  concentrated  on 
surmounting  difficulties,  not  on  encouraging  facilities. 

To   return   to  the  subject   of  this   chapter.       It  would    be 
obviously  unreasonable  to  attempt  to  compare  slight  studies  of 
plants  and  flowers,  however  precious,  with  finished  important 
works   of  art  such  as  "  Cimabue's  Madonna,"   "  A  Syracusan 
Bride,"     "  Daphnephoria,"     "Captive     Andromache,"     "The 
Return   of   Persephone,"   or,    in   fact,   with  any   of   Leighton's 
well-known  paintings — or  indeed  with   those  masterly  studies 
of  the  figure  and  draperies  in  black  and  white  chalk,   drawn 
for  his   pictures,  or  when   he   was   seized   with   the   beauty  of 
an   attitude   while    his    model    was    resting.       These,    though 
executed    in    a   few   seconds,    are  true  and    subde   records    of 
the  perfection  in  the  form  and  structure  of  the  human  figure, 
proving    the    existence    of   a    knowledge    and    of   a    sense    of 
beauty  which  Watts  declared  were   unrivalled   since  the  days 
of  Pheidias.      The  later  masterly  studies   of  landscape   in   oil- 
colour    which    formerly    lined    the    walls    of   his    Kensington 
studio,    in    which    can    be    so    truly    discerned    the    distinctive 
colouring    and    atmosphere    of    the    various    countries    where 
they    were    painted,   also    are    greater    as    achievements    than 
the  pencil  drawings.      Nevertheless,  when  studying  Leighton's 


DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS    AND    FLOWERS       209 

genius  with  a  view  to  gauge  rightly  its  power  and  also  its 
limitations,  it  is,  I  maintain,  essential  to  take  into  account 
these  direct  studies  from  Nature,  made  with  the  object  solely 
of  following,  watching,  and  copying  her  faithfully,  ingenu- 
ously, "choosing  nothing  and  rejecting  nothing,"  but  into 
which  crept  unconsciously  the  undeniable  evidence  of  his 
native  gifts.  As  proofs  of  spontaneous  power  in  the  quality 
of  his  genius,  they  refute  much  unjust  criticism  which  has 
been  hurled  at  Leighton's  art  since  his  death.  Sir  William 
Richmond  wrote  ^: — 

"That  term  of  abuse  and  of  contempt,  trite  now,  on 
account  of  the  mannerism  of  its  constant  adoption  by 
ephemeral  critics,  and  sometimes  adopted  by  poorly  equipped 
artists,  'academic,'  has  been  most  unjustly,  in  its  derogatory 
sense,  applied  to  Leighton's  art. 

"  In  point  of  fact,  it  is  academic,  but  only  in  the  good 
sense  of  being  highly  educated,  very  scientific,  and  restrained. 
And  in  that  sense  it  is  a  pity  that  there  is  not  more  of  such 
academic  art.  The  bad  sense,  wherein  such  criticism  is 
applicable,  being  justly  advanced  towards  work  that  displays 
no  inspiration,  no  originality,  that  is  correct  and  common- 
place, balanced  without  enthusiasm,  adequate  without  reason, 
and  accurate  without  good  taste  in  the  choice  of  beautiful 
and  expressive  gestures,  forms,  and  colours,  and  is  pre- 
occupied and  narrow." 

It  is  probably  the  restraint,  the  science,  the  high  educa- 
tion in  Leighton's  finished  pictures  which  have  provoked 
unsympathetic  critics  to  endeavour  to  demolish  Leighton's 
reputation  as  a  great  artist.  To  these,  such  qualities  would 
seem  to  deny  the  existence  of  any  sensitiveness,  any  spon- 
taneity in  his  art.  They  have  asserted  that  it  is  cold,  dry 
— academic.  For  the  reason  that  science,  calculated  effects, 
style,    and   high   education — qualities   rarely   found    in    modern 

*  See  Appendix,  Vol.  I. 
VOL.  I.  O 


2IO  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

English  art — are  evident  in  Leighton's  pictures,  they  con- 
clude that  the  painter  is  possessed  of  no  intuitive  genius. 
They  take  essentially  a  British,  a  non-cosmopolitan  stand- 
point from  which  to  preach.  They  do  not  take  into  account 
the  standard  towards  which  Leighton  was  ever  aiming.  He 
may  not  have  attained  the  goal  towards  which  he  worked, 
but  the  nature  of  that  goal  should  be  understood  and 
recognised  before  any  criticism  on  his  work  can  pass  as 
intelligent  and  just ;  and  these  exquisite  drawings  of  flowers 
and  plants  come  to  our  aid  in  confuting  sterile  estimates  of 
Leighton's  art,  which  deny  any  other  elements  but  those 
which  can  be  acquired  by  painstaking  and  teachable  quali- 
ties. Here  are  records  of  Nature  complicated  by  no  intellec- 
tual choice,  no  academic  learning,  no  results  of  high  education  ; 
and  what  is  the  result  ?  an  undeniable  evidence  of  the  finest, 
most  tender  sensitiveness  for  beauty,  resulting  in  a  complete 
and  perfect  rendering  of  the  subtlest  forms  of  growth.  When 
"  face  to  face "  with  Nature,  Leighton's  aesthetic  emotions 
were  keen  enough  and  all-sufficient  to  create  these  perfect 
records,  as  later  in  his  life  he  created  unrivalled  drawings  of 
the  human  figure  in  even  more  spontaneous  and  certainly 
more  rapid  strokes  of  his  pencil,  and  landscape  sketches 
which  prove  undeniably  his  gifts  as  a  colourist ;  but  it  may 
be  questioned  whether  his  aesthetic  emotions  had  as  great 
a  staying  power  as  those  qualities  of  heart  and  brain  which 
made  Leighton  a  great  man,  independent  of  the  position 
he  held  as  a  great  artist.  His  sensibilities  were  of  the 
keenest ;  the  agility  and  vitality  of  his  brain  power  were 
quite  abnormal.  As  Watts  wrote,  a  "magnificent  intel- 
lectual capacity,  and  unerring  and  instantaneous  spring 
upon  the  point  to  unravel."  It  seemed,  however,  that  this 
vitality  and  agility  did  at  times  run  away  with  that  more 
abiding  strength  of  aesthetic  emotion  which  impregnates  the 
very    greatest    art  with    a  serenity,   a  sublime  atmosphere, — 


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CiOZt'jiDik^l^     iJi,ii-a^iH^'i>.    liv^    ^O    i'*&i<i£ii.'iA  i^<^ 


"D^DALUS  AND  ICARUS/*     1869 
By  permission  of  Sir  Alexander  Henderson 


DRAWINCtS    of    plants    and    flowers       211 

an  emotion  which  denotes  a  mood  in  which  the  artist  has 
been  steeped  throughout  the  creation  of  a  work,  from  the 
first  moment  he  conceives  it  to  the  moment  when  he  puts 
the  last  touch  to  the  canvas,  and  affects  the  actual  manipulation 
of  the  pigment.  The  above  criticism  applies  only  justly  to 
certain  of  Leighton's  works.  In  many  of  his  paintings  the 
poetic  motive  which  inspired  their  invention, — their  mental 
atmosphere, — governs  the  achievements  throughout,  though 
doubtless  these  works  also  would  have  had  a  more  convincing 
effect  as  art  had  the  surface  possessed  a  more  vibrating  quality. 
Among  those  pictures  in  which  form,  colour,  tone,  and  ex- 
pression are  completely  dominated  by  their  poetic  meaning 
are  "  Lieder  ohne  Worte,"  a  lovely,  though  youthful,  work  ; 
"David;"  "Ariadne,"  a  picture  little  known,  but  in  some 
respects  perhaps  the  most  poetic  Leighton  ever  painted ; 
"Summer  Moon"  (Watts'  favourite  Leighton),  "  Elisha  Rais- 
ing the  Son  of  the  Shunammite,"  "Winding  the  Skein," 
"Music  Lesson,"  "Antique  Juggling  Girl,"  "Daedalus  and 
Icarus,"  "Helios  and  Rhodos,"  "Golden  Hours,"  "  Cymon 
and  Iphigenia,"  "The  Spirit  of  the  Summit,"  "Flaming 
June,"   "Clytie"  (unfinished). 

No  aspect  of  his  own  work  was  a  secret  from  Leighton. 
No  one  knew  better  than  he  did  his  own  limitations,  or  why 
it  was  necessary  to  keep  himself  in  hand  by  methods  of 
procedure  in  his  painting  which  he  could  guide  by  his  ever 
present  intellectual  acumen.  He  wrote  to  his  father  on 
March  2,  1855,  having  just  completed  the  two  pictures, 
"  Cimabue's  Madonna"  and  "Romeo":  "You  ask  for  my 
opinion  of  my  pictures ;  you  couldn't  ask  a  more  embar- 
rassing and  unsatisfactory  question  ;  I  think,  indeed,  that 
they  are  very  creditable  works  for  my  age,  but  I  am  any- 
thing but  satisfied  with  them,  and  believe  that  I  could 
paint  both  of  them  better  now.  I  am  particularly  anxious 
that    persons    whom    I    love    or   esteem    should    think    neither 


212  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

more  nor  less  of  my  artistic  capacity  than  I  deserve — the 
plain  truth ;  I  am  therefore  very  circumspect  in  passing  a 
verdict  on  myself  in  addressing  myself  to  such  persons ;  I 
think,  however,  you  may  expect  me  to  become  eventually  the 
best  draughtsman  in  my  country." 

A  biographer's  obvious  moral  duty  is  to  aim  at  present- 
ing impartially  "  the  plain  truth,"  following  Leighton's  lead 
in  not  desiring  to  give  either  a  more  or  less  favourable 
view  of  his  capacities  as  an  artist  than  they  deserve.  On 
May  7,  1864,  Leighton  writes  in  a  letter  to  his  father 
and  mother :  "I  had  a  kind  note  this  morning  from  Ruskin 
in  which,  after  criticising  two  or  three  things,  he  speaks 
very  warmly  of  other  points  in  my  work  and  of  the  de- 
velopment of  what  he  calls  '  enormous  power  and  sense  of 
beauty.'  I  quote  this  for  what  it  is  worth,  because  I  know  it 
will  give  you  pleasure,  but  I  have  not  and  tiever  shall  have 
'enormous  power,'  though  I  have  some  'sense  of  beauty.'" 
Leighton  remained  ever  far  from  being  contented  with  his 
own  work.  "  I  alone  know  how  far  I  have  fallen  short  of  my 
ideal,"  he  says,  many  years  later,  to  the  old  acquaintance  of 
the  Lucca  days.  He  had  studied  under  the  shadow  of  the 
great  masters ;  and  though  never  an  imitator  even  of  the 
greatest,^  he  had  set  himself  a  standard  of  supreme  excel- 
lence, more  easily  approached  under  the  conditions  in 
which  artists  worked  in  the  fourteenth,  fifteenth,  and  six- 
teenth centuries  than  it  possibly  could  be  in  those  of  the 
nineteenth.  With  respect  to  his  power  of  draughtsmanship 
and  his  natural  sense  of  beauty,  Leighton  knew  his  place 
was  among  the  greatest.  His  appreciation  and  love  of  colour 
were  also  far  keener  than  those  possessed  by  the  average 
artist.      He  felt  nevertheless  that  he  lacked  the  inevitable  and 

^  See  letter  to  Steinle,  page  i88  :  "  .  .  .  God  forgive  me  if  I  am  intolerant  ;  but 
according  to  my  view  an  artist  must  produce  his  art  out  of  his  own  heart,  or  he 
is  none." 


DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS   AND   FLOWERS        213 

continuous  force  which  alone  gives  ''enormous  power''  and 
ease  to  the  craftsman,  when  he  deals  with  work  on  a  large 
scale,  and  which  carries  with  it  the  absolutely  convincing 
effect  of  the  world-renowned  art  of  the  past.  Realising  that 
the  "enormous  power"  was  not  there  because  the  ever  con- 
clusively propelling  force  was  lacking,  perhaps  owing  pardy 
from  the  want  of  robust  health,  and  also  doubtless  from  the 
scattering  of  his  powers  in  many  directions  to  which  he  was 
drawn  by  a  sense  of  duty,  Leighton,  in  working  out  the 
designs  of  his  large  pictures,  clung  all  the  more  resolutely  to 
the  exercise  of  that  system  which  he  had  adopted,  and  which 
many  of  his  friends — Watts  and  Briton  Riviere  among  the 
number — thought  tended  to  cramp  his  genius.  He  was  not 
sufficiendy  sure  of  himself  to  admit  the  "accidental"  into  his 
work. 

Some  critics  have,  however,  gone  beyond  the  mark  in 
emphasising  this  characteristic  of  Leighton's  methods.  One 
writes:  "  Deliberateness  of  workmanship  and  calculation  of 
effect,  into  which  inspiration  of  the  moment  is  never  allowed 
to  enter,  are  the  chief  characteristics  of  the  painter's  crafts- 
manship. The  inspiration  stage  was  practically  passed  when 
he  took  the  crayon  in  his  hand  ;  and  to  this  circumstance  pro- 
bably is  to  be  assigned  the  absence  of  realism  which  arrests 
the  attention."  This  statement  is  contrary  to  many  which 
I  have  heard  fall  from  Leighton's  own  lips.  He  constantly 
drew  my  attention  to  the  fact — a  fact  on  which  he  laid  great 
stress,  and  of  which  many  models  were  witnesses — that  he 
invariably  recurred  to  Nature  in  the  later  stages  of  his  pic- 
tures, in  order  to  imbibe  renewed  inspiration  from  the  source 
of  all  his  aesthetic  emotions — Nature.  Any  one  who  carefully 
studies  Leighton's  pictures  will  find  evidence  of  this  in  the 
works  themselves,  in  the  accessories  no  less  than  in  the 
principal  figures.  During  the  exhibition  of  some  thirty  of 
Leighton's    finest    paintings    at    Leighton    House    in    1900,    I 


2  14  THE    LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

was  daily  more  and  more  impressed  by  the  fact  that  the 
final  touches  in  those  pictures  had  been  inspired  by  the 
actual  subtlety  of  Nature's  aspects,  and  transmitted  to 
the  canvas  by  the  artist  direct  from  the  objects  before  him 
without  conscious  calculation.  Very  obviously  was  this  the 
case  not  only  in  the  principal  features  of  the  design — the 
countenances  and  the  hands  and  feet  of  the  figures — but 
in  such  details  as  the  flowers,  fabrics  of  draperies,  carpets, 
mother-of-pearl  inlaying,  found  (for  instance)  in  "A  Noble 
Venetian  Lady,"  "Summer  Moon,"  "Sister's  Kiss,"  "Weaving 
the  Wreath,"  "Winding  the  Skein,"  "The  Music  Lesson," 
"  Atalanta."  In  all  these  pictures  exists  the  internal  con- 
vincing evidence  contradicting  the  statement  that  "the  in- 
spiration stage  was  practically  past  when  he  took  the  crayon 
in  his  hand."  This,  however,  did  not  obscure  in  some 
of  Leighton's  large  finished  pictures  undoubted  evidences 
of  arrangements  and  calculated  effects,  which  are  not  over- 
ruled by  an  art  which  conceals  them,  by  the  art  which  dis- 
guises art, — the  clenching  force  of  the  inevitable.  The 
beauty  of  line,  the  grouping  of  masses,  the  "composition" 
evident  in  the  posing  of  the  figures — admirable  and  un- 
laboured as  all  these  arrangements  are — not  infrequently 
lack  this  convincing  sign  of  the  inevitable.  It  is  too 
obvious  that  they  have  been  chosen  by  the  intellectual 
taste  of  their  maker.  When  Goethe  was  expatiating  on 
Shakespeare  and  comparing  his  genius  with  his  own, 
he  said,  as  a  proof  of  his  own  inferiority,  that  he  knew 
well  how  every  word  was  made  to  come  in  its  place,  but 
with  Shakespeare  they  came  without  Shakespeare  knowing.^ 
Leighton,   like   Goethe,   was  conscious   that  his   genius    could 

^  "  I  remember  hearing  him  (Wordsworth)  say  that  '  Goethe's  poetry  was  not 
inevitable  enough.'  The  remark  is  striking  and  true ;  no  line  in  Goethe,  as  Goethe 
said  himself,  but  its  maker  knew  well  how  it  came  there.  Wordsworth  is  right  ; 
Goethe's  poetry  is  not  inevitable  ;  not  inevitable  enough." — Preface  to  "  Poems  of 
Wordsworth,"  chosen  and  edited  by  Matthew  Arnold. 


WEAVING  THE  WREATH/*     1873 


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**  MUSIC  LESSON/*     1877 
By  permission  of  the  Fine  Art  Society,  the  owners  of  the  Copyright 


DRAWINGS   OF   PLANTS   AND    FLOWERS       215 

not  vie  with  the  greatest  in  the  world — the  genius  he  was 
able  to  appreciate  as  Goethe  did  Shakespeare's ;  but  he 
also  knew,  as  did  Goethe,  exactly  the  place  his  own  art 
ought  to  take;  he  knew  that  in  his  sense  of  style  —  which, 
in  its  true  meaning,  is  the  echo  of  Nature  in  her  choicest, 
noblest  moods, — in  his  sense  of  the  beauty  of  the  human 
structure,  in  his  power  of  draughtsmanship,  his  work  was 
superior  to  that  of  any  of  his  contemporaries  in  England. 
The  fact  of  the  greatness  of  Leighton's  powers  in  some 
directions  challenges  a  comparison  between  his  work  and 
that  of  the  giants  of  old  who  possess  enormous  power 
in  all  directions.  No  one  knew  so  well  as  did  Leighton 
the  place  he  must  take  when  he  entered  the  lists  with 
the  giants :  "  I  have  not  and  never  shall  have  '  enormous 
power.'"  He  writes  in  1856  from  Paris  to  his  Master, 
Steinle  : — 

Translation^ 

Paris,  Rue  Pigalle  21. 

My   good    and    dear    Friend, — Accidentally    I    had    an    idle 

morning  when   I    received  your  dear  letter,   and  therefore   answer 

it  immediately.     With  your   usual  modesty  you  put  aside  all  that 

I  say  of  goodness  and  love,  but  I  repeat  it  unweariedly.     Steinle, 

my  good   Master,  if  in  this  insincere  world   I   have  an  unfeigned, 

pure  feeling,  it  is  my  warm  gratitude  and  love  for  you  ;  and   the 

time  when   I   bloomed,  gay  and  full  of  hope,  in  your  garden  will 

light   me  through  life  like  a  sunny  spot  in  the  past  ;    and   I  yield 

myself    to  this   feeling  the  more  confidently,    since   I    know  that   I 

am    under    no    delusion    in   it.      I    have   fairly   strong   insight,   and 

know  exactly  what    I   owe  to  you,  and  for  what   I  have  to  thank 

nature  ;    I   can   already  appraise   my  moderate   natural   gifts  ;    but 

I  know  also  that  these  gifts  received  through  you  alone  the  impression 

of  taste  that  can  alone  make  them  effective,  and  that  in  your  hands 

they   were   refined   as   in    a  furnace.     An   English   painter   seldom 

lacks    fancy    and    invention,     but    taste,    that     which     forms     and 

embellishes  the    raw  material,  that  is   almost  always  wanting  with 

us — and  it  is  you   I   must  thank  for  the  little  I   possess. 


21 6  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

To     flatter     was     an     Impossibility    with     Leighton.       He 
paid    every   artist    the    respect    of    believing    he    desired    the 
same    sincerity    shown    in    the    criticism    of    his    work    that 
he, — Leighton, — wished     when     his     own    was    judged,     and 
with    which    he   judged    it    himself.       A    remarkable    feature 
in  his  character  was  the  power  he  had  of  retaining  so  secure 
a    hold    on    his    own    standards    of   excellence    without    for    a 
moment    losing    his    individual    self-centre,    yet    at    the    same 
time    possessing    that    of    entering    sympathetically    into    the 
view  of  other  artists — a  view  often  quite  contrary  to  his  own 
— and    generously  acknowledging  every   merit   that  could    by 
any    possibility    be    extracted    from    their    work.       Mr.    Briton 
Riviere    writes :    "  The    intensity    of  his   own    personal    belief 
was   well   known  to   himself.      He   once   said   to  me,   in  refer- 
ence to  a  clever  picture  which   he  greatly  admired  for  some 
of  its   qualities,   that    he   could   not  really   enjoy    it,   owing  to 
its    careless    drawing.       On    another    occasion,    when    at    Mr. 
Russell's   sale   I   had   bought  a  very  vigorous  study  by  Etty, 
and    Leighton    was   quite    enthusiastic    about    its    colour    and 
painting,    he   said,    '  But    I    could    not    bear    it    on    my    wall, 
with  that  drawing,'  and  he  laughed  at  himself  for  this  strict- 
ness, and    said,   '  I    know   that    I    am    a    prig   about   drawing.' 
However,    not   only   did   this    never    blind    him   to   the   claims 
of  another  kind  of  art,  but   I   think  he  was  even  more  keen 
to    recommend    for    approval    the    work    of    any    school    of 
painting  for  which,  personally,  he  had  no  particular  liking  or 
sympathy.      '  It    is    not    whether  you    or    I    like    it,    but   what 
it   is   on   its   own   merits,'   was  a   favourite   warning  of  his  to 
any  rapid  opinion  expressed  on  a  picture.      To  any  one  inti- 
mately  acquainted   with   his  own  real  views   and    opinions    it 
was   sometimes    surprising   to    find    how  well    he   realised    the 
intentions,  and   put  himself  in   the  place,  of  some  artist  who 
had    produced    something   very   foreign   to    his    own    point  of 
view,    and    quite    repugnant    to   his    beliefs.     This    is    not    a 


DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS   AND    FLOWERS       217 

common  quality  among  artists,  whose  critical  tolerance  is  often 
in  an  inverse  ratio  to  the  firmness  of  their  own  particular 
creed  of  art  faith  ;  and  it  was  one  of  the  many  qualities 
which  marked  Leighton  out  as  so  admirably  fitted  for  the 
Presidency." 

Leighton  was,  undoubtedly,  an  absolutely  competent  critic 
of  his  own  art ;  and  the  fact  that  his  principles  had  been 
inspired  by  a  spontaneous  and  sincere  reverence  and  admira- 
tion for  the  creations  of  artists  whom  time  has  crowned  as  the 
greatest  in  the  world,  and  that  with  his  critical  faculty  he 
perceived  in  what  measure  he  had  succeeded  in  following 
in  their  steps,  enabled  him  to  gauge  with  absolute  justice 
the  merits  and  shortcomings  of  his  own  work,  compared  with 
that  of  his  contemporaries.  Whatever  those  shortcomings 
were,  certain  it  is  that  they  did  not  arise  from  an  absence 
of  those  natural  gifts  which  are  the  outcome  of  emotional 
sensitiveness,  nor  from  a  want  of  intense  feeling  for  the  beauty 
of  Nature,  nor  .from  a  poverty  of  invention.  The  theory 
that  his  art  was  solely  the  result  of  his  having  an  abnormal 
power  of  industry  and  of  taking  pains — a  theory  which  has 
been  advanced  many  times  since  Leighton's  death — cannot 
hold  good  for  a  moment  with  those  who  'impartially  study 
his  work  from  the  beginning  of  his  career.  The  spontaneity 
of  the  impulse  to  produce  in  every  born  artist  is  described 
in  the  following  passage  from  Leighton's  first  discourse,  when 
President,  to  the  students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  December 
10,  1879,  and  the  description  is  obviously  drawn  from  his 
own  personal  experience :  "  The  gift  of  artistic  production 
manifests  itself  in  the  young  in  an  impulse  so  spontaneous 
and  so  imperative,  and  is  in  its  origin  so  wholly  emotional 
and  independent  of  the  action  of  the  intellect,  that  it  at 
first  and  for  some  time  entirely  absorbs  their  energies.  The 
student's  first  steps  on  the  bright  paths  of  his  working  life 
are  obscured  by  no  shadows  save  those  cast  by  the  difficulties 


21 8  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

of  a  technical  nature  which  lie  before  him,  and  these  diffi- 
culties, which  indeed  he  only  half  discerns,  serve  rather  to 
whet  his  appetite  than  to  hamper  or  discourage  him  ;  for  his 
heart  whispers  that,  when  he  shall  have  brushed  them  aside, 
the  road  will  be  clear  before  him,  and  the  utterance  of  what 
he  feels  stirring  within  him  will  be  from  thenceforward  one 
long  unchecked  delight.  This  spirit  of  spontaneous,  unques- 
tioning rejoicing  in  production,  which  is  still  the  privilege  of 
youth,  and  which,  even  now,  the  very  strong  sometimes  carry 
with  them  through  their  lives,  was  indeed,  when  Art  herself 
was  in  her  prime,  the  normal  and  constant  condition  of  the 
artistic  temper,  and  shone  out  in  all  artistic  work.  It  is  this 
spirit  which  gave  a  perennial  freshness  to  Athenian  Art — 
the  serenest  and  most  spontaneous  men  have  ever  seen. 
And  when  again,  after  many  centuries,  another  Art  was  born 
out  of  the  night  of  the  Dark  Ages,  and  shed  its  gentle  light 
over  the  chaos  of  society,  this  spirit  once  more  burst  through 
it  into  flame.  All  forms  of  Art  are  alike  fired  with  it.  Archi- 
tecture first,  exulting  in  new  flights  of  vigorous  and  bold 
creation  ;  then  Sculpture  ;  last.  Painting,  virtually  a  new  Art, 
looked  out  on  to  the  world  with  the  wondering  delight  of  a 
child,  timidly  at  first,  but  soon  to  fill  it  with  the  bright  ex- 
pression of  its  joy.  Those  were  halcyon  days  ;  the  questions, 
'  Why  do  I  paint  ? '  '  Why  do  I  model  ? '  '  Why  should  I 
build  beautifully  ? '  '  What — how — shall  I  build,  model,  paint  ? ' 
had  no  existence  in  the  mind  of  the  artist.  '  Why,'  he  might 
have  answered,  '  does  the  lark  soar  and  sing  ? '  " 

Though  his  direct  study  from  Nature  mostly  took  the 
form,  in  later  years,  of  sketching  in  oil  colour  views  in  the 
different  countries  in  which  he  travelled,  Leighton  showed 
to  the  end  of  his  life  his  great  delight  in  flowers  by  con- 
tinuing to  make  sketches  from  them.  In  1895,  at  Malinmore, 
he  was  fascinated  by  the  sea-thistle,  and  there  are  four  pages 
in    a    sketch-book    devoted   to    rapid    sketches    of   the    plant, 


STUDY   OF  SEA  THISTLE,     Malinmore,  Ireland,  1895 

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DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS   AND    FLOWERS       219 

callantra,  which  he  made  there.  Notes  are  written  on  the 
first  sketch  indicatinof  the  colours.  It  is  interestino-  to  com- 
pare  the  early  pencil  work  executed  between  1850  and 
i860  with  that  of  forty  years  later.  Though  the  handling 
may  be  different,  there  is  the  same  complete  sense  and 
enjoyment  of  the  wonderful  architecture  of  plants  and  flowers 
obvious  in  both.^ 

^  Knowing  that  Leighton  was  a  frequenter  of  the  Kew  Gardens,  I  asked  Sir  W. 
Thiselton  Dyer  to  write  me  his  recollections  of  him,  which  he  most  kindly  did  in 
the  following  letter  : — 

Kew,  Jamiary  ii,  1906. 

Dear  Mrs.  Barrington, — My  acquaintance  with  Lord  Leighton  was  only 
beginning  to  ripen  into  intimacy  when  he  unhappily  died.  His  somewhat  grand 
seigneur  manner  at  first  a  little  alarmed  me  ;  but  when  I  had  broken  through  his 
reserve,  I  became,  like  every  one  else,  much  attached  to  him. 

He  used  often  to  dine  in  evening  dress  at  a  small  table  behind  a  screen  at  the 
door  of  the  coffee-room  at  the  Athenaeum.  In  the  corner  adjoining  this  is  a  round 
table  known  as  Abraham's  Bosom,  as  it  was  once  frequented  by  Abraham  Hayward. 
Here,  on  Royal  Society  days,  we  often  had  a  lively  scientific  party.  Leighton  often 
found  it  impossible  to  keep  aloof,  and  joined  in  the  fun. 

I  found  Sir  Frederic,  as  he  was  called,  was  well  known  to  our  men  as  a  visitor  to 
Kew.  He  used  to  drive  down  in  his  victoria  in  the  afternoon  and  take  a  solitary 
walk.  I  only  myself  came  across  him  once.  I  had  taken  some  trouble  to  get  a 
fine  show  of  the  old-fashioned  Dutch  tulips  known  as  Bizards  and  Byblomen. 
I  found  Leighton  one  day  absorbed  in  the  enthusiastic  contemplation  of  them. 
There  were  certain  combinations  of  colour  which  completely  fascinated  him.  I 
remember  that  he  particularly  admired  a  purplish  brown  with  yellow  and  a  reddish 
purple  with  cream-colour.  Both  were,  I  think,  in  the  "key  "that  particularly  appealed 
to  him.  He  was  very  anxious  to  have  them  in  his  garden  in  London,  and  we  gave 
him  a  little  collection,  with  directions  how  to  grow  them.  What  was  the  result  I 
never  heard. 

I  then  suggested  that,  as  it  was  a  lovely  spring  day,  I  should  take  him  a  walk. 
He  assented,  and  we  sent  his  carriage  round  to  the  Lion  Gate,  nearest  to  Richmond. 
I  took  him  through  the  Queen's  Cottage  grounds  to  show  him  the  sheets  of  wild 
hyacinth.     He  admitted  their  beauty,  but  remarked  that  the  effect  was  not  pictorial. 

That,  I  think,  was  Leighton's  point  of  view.  With  an  intense  feeling  for  beauty, 
he  had  little  or  none  for  Nature  pure  and  simple.  His  art  was  essentially  selective, 
and  I  think  he  took  most  pleasure  at  Kew  in  the  more  or  less  artificial  products  of 
the  gardener's  art.  What  he  sought  was  subtle  effects  of  form  and  colour.  Personally, 
I  appreciate  both  ways  of  treating  plants.  I  am  always  at  war  with  artists  for  their 
undisciplined  and  mostly  incompetent  treatment  of  vegetation  :  drawing  and  anatomy 
are  usually  defective  to  an  instructed  eye,  such  faults  would  be  intolerable  in  the 
figure.    Their  presence  robs  me  of  much  pleasure  in  looking  at  Burne-Jones'  pictures. 


2  20  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

I  imagine  he  mostly  made  his  plants  up  out  of  his  head.  Ruskin,  with  all  his  talk, 
was  both  unobservant  and  careless.  Millais,  on  the  other  hand,  though  I  am 
not  aware  that  he  ever  had  any  botanical  training,  by  sheer  force  of  insight 
paints  plants  in  a  way  to  which  the  most  fastidious  botanist  can  take  no  exception. 
One  can  actually  botanise  in  his  foreground  of  "  Over  the  Hills  and  Far  Away," 
yet  there  is  no  loss  of  general  pictorial  effect.  The  plant  drawing  of  Albert  Diirer, 
Holman  Hunt,  and  Alma  Tadema,  though  more  studied,  is  absolutely'  satisfying  to 
the  botanist.  Sir  Joseph  Hooker  has  always  complained  that  the  Royal  Academy 
has  never  given  any  encouragement  to  accurate  plant  drawing.  Yet  I  have  heard 
Sir  William  Richmond  say  that,  as  a  student,  he  made  hundreds  of  careful  studies  of 
plant-form,  and  that  he  knew  no  discipline  more  profitable.  I  remember  remarking 
to  an  Academician  that  I  thought  that  in  this  respect  the  competition  pictures  of  the 
students  reached  a  higher  standard  than  that  of  the  average  May  Exhibition,  and  he 
admitted  that  that  was  a  possible  criticism. 

Leighton  aimed  at  beauty  by  selection  and  discipline.  Millais  in  his  later  work 
looked  only  to  general  effect  and  balance,  but  as  to  detail  was  content  to  faithfully 
reproduce,  and  did  not  select  at  all.  This  explains  the  admiration  which  I  believe 
Millais  had  for  Miss  North's  work.  Both  produced  admirable  results,  but  they  were 
of  an  essentially  different  kind,  though  equally  admirable. 

But  whenever  Leighton  introduced  plant-forms,  it  was  penetrated  by  his  charac- 
teristic thoroughness  and  perfect  mastery  of  what  he  was  about.  I  am  myself  a 
passionate  admirer  of  the  Gloire-de-Dijon  rose.  I  remember  telling  Leighton  that 
I  did  not  think  that  any  one  had  ever  painted  it  with  such  consummate  skill  as  he 
had.  I  am  told,  and  quite  believe  it,  that  his  pencil  studies  from  plants  are  as  fine 
as  anything  that  has  ever  been  done. 

Leighton  rendered  us  a  very  great  service  on  one  occasion.  Miss  North's 
pictures  were  painted  on  paper,  roughly  framed,  and  simply  hung  by  her  on  the 
brick  walls  of  her  gallery.  They  soon  began  to  rapidly  deteriorate.  I  appealed  to 
L.  for  advice.  I  was,  I  confess,  astonished  to  receive  from  him  a  full,  precise,  and 
business-like  report,  pointing  out  exactly  what  should  be  done,  and  who  was  the 
proper  person  to  do  it.  The  gallery  was  to  be  lined  with  boarding,  the  pictures  were 
to  be  properly  framed,  cleaned,  lightly  varnished,  and  glazed.  The  report  was  at 
once  accepted  by  the  office  of  works,  the  work  was  successfully  carried  out,  and  no 
trouble  has  been  experienced  since. 

In  his  turn,  Leighton  sometimes  appealed  to  me.  This  was  notably  the  case  when 
he  was  painting  his  "  Persephone,"  which  I  frankly  told  him  I  thought  was  the  most 
beautiful  picture  he  had  ever  painted.  He  had  been  in  Capri,  and  had  seen  on  the 
rocks  a  blue  flower  which  he  wished  to  introduce  into  the  foreground.  We  made 
out  what  it  was,  and  sent  him  tracings  from  plates  and  sketches  from  herbarium 
specimens.  These  did  not  satisfy  him,  and  he  ultimately  sent  to  Capri  for  the 
living  plant.  He  worked  hard  at  it,  and,  I  do  not  doubt,  produced  a  very  beautiful 
piece  of  colour. 

That  year  I  dined  at  the  Academy.  "Persephone"  hung  over  Leighton's  chair, 
and  was  the  subject  of  one  of  the  few  really  witty  remarks  I  ever  heard  in  an  after- 
dinner  speech.     But  then  the  speaker  was  Lord  Justice  Bowen. 

But  his  beautiful  foreground  was  all  gone.     Leighton,  and  I  think  he  was  right, 


**  RETURN  OF  PERSEPHONE/'     1891 


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STUDY  IN  COLOUR  FOR  "RETURN  OF 

PERSEPHONE/*    1891 

By  permission  of  Mrs.  Stewart  Hodgson 


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DRAWINGS   OF    PLANTS   AND    FLOWERS        221 

thought  it  destroyed  the  balance  of  his  colour  scheme,  and  painted  it  out.  But  I 
have  always  felt  sad  to  think  of  the  beautiful  work  that  lay  buried  there. 

When  he  died,  we  felt  very  sad  at  Kew.  He  had  always  been  so  lovable  and 
disinterested.  We  decided  to  send  some  tribute  to  his  funeral,  but  to  avoid  what 
was  commonplace.  So  we  sent  a  large  wreath  of  bay,  introducing,  in  the  place  of 
the  conventional  berries,  single  snowdrop  flowers.  The  result  was  dignified  and, 
I  think,  adequate.  At  any  rate,  the  Academicians  thought  so,  if,  as  I  have  been 
told,  they  placed  the  wreath  by  the  coffin  on  the  hearse  on  its  way  to  St.  Paul's. 

I  walked  back  with  Lord  Redesdale,  one  of  Leighton's  most  intimate  friends, 
who  had  come  up  from  Batsford  to  attend.  There  was  a  great  gathering  at  the 
Athenaeum.  I  sat  next  Millais,  already  himself  stricken  with  death,  and  whom  I 
never  saw  again. 

I  am  afraid  all  this  will  not  be  very  helpful  to  you,  but  my  pen  ran  on  to  tell  you 
all  I  could  of  a  good,  great,  and  brave  man,  whom  it  was  an  honour  to  have  known. — 
Yours  always  sincerely,  W.  C.  Thiselton  Dyer. 


CHAPTER    IV 

WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE 
1855-1856 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1855,  in  consequence  of  his  father 
having  summoned  him  suddenly  back  to  England,  that 
Leighton  first  became  known  as  a  notable  person  to  the 
London  world.  His  picture  of  "  Cimabue's  Madonna"  had 
preceded  him,  and  gave  him  an  introduction  to  the  art  mag- 
nates ;  while  the  fact  that  the  Queen  had  bought  it  of  the 
young  and,  till  then,  unknown  artist,  raised  the  curiosity  of 
those  to  whom  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  work  was  insignifi- 
cant, compared  to  its  having  received  this  mark  of  Royal 
approval.  Hanging  on  the  walls  of  the  Academy  through- 
out the  season  and  being  much  talked  about,  the  picture, 
combined  with  the  painter's  charming  personality,  won  for 
him  at  once  a  prominent  position.  His  friends  of  the  happy 
Roman  days,  however,  remained  the  nucleus  of  his  real  in- 
timacies. As  can  be  gathered  from  his  letters,  he  had 
already  in  Rome  felt  general  society  to  be  fatiguing  and 
jfV  unremunerative,^^  the  interest  in  it  never  having  compensated 
him  for  the  physical  exertion  and  weariness  it  entailed. 
Health — and  a  more  or  less  stolid  temperament — are  requi- 
site in  order  to  combat,  with  any  satisfaction,  the  wear 
and  tear  of  late  hours,  and  contact  with  mere  acquaintances 
and  strangers  whose  personalities  carry  with  them  no  special 
interest.  Leighton  found  no  pleasure  in  such  intercourse 
sufficient  to  overbalance  its  sterility,  for  he  possessed  neither 
robust    health    nor    much    equanimity    of    temperament.       He 


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WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  223 

could  enjoy  with  ecstasy  those  things  which  dehghted  him, 
but  had  Httle  of  that  even  current  of  patient  contentment, 
the  normal  condition  of  those  who  can  tolerate  cheerfully — 
and  even  with  pleasure — the  herding  in  crowds  with  mere 
acquaintances.  Circumstances  combined  in  making  Leighton's 
disinclination  to  indiscriminate  visiting  often  misunderstood. 
His  extreme  vitality  when  in  company,  his  notable  gifts  as 
a  talker  and  as  a  linguist,  the  high  social  standing  of  many 
of  his  most  intimate  friends,  naturally  gave  the  impression 
that  he  was  made  for  the  sort  of  success  which  is  the  aim 
of  many  living  in  the  London  world.  That  he  never  availed 
himself  of  all  the  opportunities  that  offered  themselves  was 
considered  by  many  as  a  sign  of  conceit  and  superciliousness. 
Nothinof  could  have  been  farther  from  the  truth.  That  he 
was  ambitious  for  Art  to  take  her  legitimate  position  on 
the  platform  of  the  world's  highest  interests  is  certain,  and 
that  he  resented  the  position  which  was  but  too  often 
accorded  in  England  to  her  earnest  votaries,  and  had  a 
keen  discernment  in  tracing  evidences  of  self-interest  and 
snobbish  proclivities  in  those  who  would  have  patronised 
him,  is  no  less  certain  ;  but  that  Leighton  himself  was  ever 
personally  otherwise '  than  the  most  modest  of  men,  all  who  f- 
really  knew  him  can  attest.  To  whatever  class  in  society 
a  man  or  woman  might  belong,  whether  a  Royal  or  a 
quite  humble  friend — once  a  friend,  Leighton  gave  of  his 
very  best  and  worthiest.  No  time  or  trouble  would  he 
spare  in  such  service ;  though  he  was  too  eager  a  worker, 
and  felt  too  keenly  a  responsibility  towards  his  calling  for 
him  to  allow  any  moment  of  his  life  to  be  frittered  away 
by  claims  which  were  not  in  his  eyes  real  or  of  any  serious 
advantage  to  others. 

It  was  during  this  summer  that  he  made  the  personal 
acquaintance  of  Ruskin,  Holman  Hunt,  Millais,  and  Watts. 
While  in   London  he  found   a  home   with   his   mother's   rela- 


2  24  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

tions,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nash,  in  Montagu  Square,  for  whose 
affectionate  kindness  he  was  ever  grateful.  It  was  while 
staying  there  that  Watts  and  he  first  met,  or  rather  on  the 
pavement  outside  the  house.  Watts  recounted  how  he  had 
ridden  one  afternoon  to  Montagu  Square,  and  having  asked 
for  Leighton,  the  artist  himself  came  out  to  greet  him. 
Watts  was  much  impressed  at  the  time,  he  said,  by  the 
extraordinary  amount  of  vitality  and  nervous  energy  which 
Leighton  seemed  to  possess.  This  acquaintance  thus  begun 
was  continued  for  forty  years. ^ 

As  regarded  Art,  the  supreme  interest  in  the  lives  of 
these  two  famous  painters,  their  relations  remained  intimate 
to  the  end  of  Leighton's  life.  Before  Leighton  definitely 
settled  in  London,  Watts  invited  him  to  show  his  work  in  the 
studios  of  Little  Holland  House,  which  invitation  he  erate- 
fully  accepted.  In  a  letter  to  his  mother  Leighton  writes: 
"  Watts  has  been  exceedingly  amiable  to  me  ;  the  studio  is 
at  my  disposal  if  I  want  to  paint  there.  I  am  still  of  opinion 
that  Watts  is  a  most  marvellous  fellow,  and  if  he  had  but 
decent  health  would  whip  us  all,  if  he  does  not  already." 

It  is  interesting  to  trace  the  influences  which  developed 
alike  in  Leighton  and  Watts,  the  feeling  for  form  which  in 
both  artists  is  analogous  to  that  of  the  Greek.  Before 
going  to  Italy,  Watts  had  studied  the  perfection  in  the 
work  of  Pheidias  in  the  Elgin  Marbles,  a  perfection  redis- 
covered by  Haydon  ;  and  a  visit  to  Greece  later  only  con- 
firmed his  conviction  that  the  Pheidian  school  of  sculpture 
made  a  higher  appeal  to  his  artistic  sense  than  did  any 
other.       That  was   "■the   indelible  seal''  which,  in  the  case  of 

^  Watts  wrote  at  the  time  Leighton  died  that  he  had  enjoyed  an  uninterrupted 
friendship  with  him  of  forty-five  years.  This  was  evidently  a  slight  miscalculation. 
We  read  in  one  of  Leighton's  letters  to  his  mother  from  Rome  that  Watts  had  called 
on  him,  but  that  he  had  missed  seeing  him,  and  Watts  certainly  spoke  to  me  of  this 
interview  on  the  pavement  of  Montagu  Square  in  1855  as  the  first  he  had  had  with 
Leighton. 


WATTS— SUCCESS- FAILURE  225 

his  brother  artist,  had  been  stamped  on  Leighton's  artistic 
nature  through  the  guidance  of  his  master,  Steinle.  When 
Watts  hved  in  Italy,  from  the  year  1843  to  1847,  he  found 
that  it  was  the  work  of  Orcagna  and  Titian  that  appealed 
most  to  his  imagination,  and  to  his  sense  of  form  and  colour — 
Orcagna's  great  conceptions,  which  struck  notes  stranger  and 
more  widely  suggestive  than  those  dictated  and  restricted  by 
special  religious  creeds  ;  Titian,  the  glorious  Titian  of  the  Re- 
naissance, whose  sense  and  modelling  had  the  breadth  and 
bloom  of  Pheidian  art,  and  whose  colour  was  triumphant  in 
qualities  of  richness  and  subtlety  combined.  The  pure 
beauty  in  the  early  religious  painters  made  a  much  slighter 
and  less  personal  appeal  to  Watts  during  those  four  years 
he  lived  in  Italy. 

It  was  in  Italy,  when  a  child  of  twelve,  that  Leighton 
drank  a  deep  draught  from  the  fountain-head  of  mediaeval 
and  modern  art ;  and  this  established  once  and  for  all  the 
high  standard  towards  which  he  ever  aimed.  But  though 
his  true  artistic  preferences  were  aroused  at  this  early  age, 
the  full  and  complete  passion  for  his  calling  was  not  de- 
veloped till  he  met  his  master  some  years  later  in  Frank- 
fort. Belonging  to  the  brotherhood  of  Nazarenes,  the  early 
religious  Italian  art  appealed  more  strongly  than  any  other 
to  Steinle ;  and,  doubtless,  the  earnest  study  Leighton  de- 
voted to  Duccio,  Cimabue,  Giotto,  Buonfigli,  Perugino,  and 
Pinturicchio,  and  the  delight  he  took  in  their  work,  was  origi- 
nally started  by  Steinle.  The  following  list,  which  exists 
in  Steinle's  handwriting,  of  the  paintings  which  he  wished 
Leighton  specially  to  study  in  Florence  is  evidence  of  this. 

Translation.'] 

FLORENCE 

St.  Croce. — The  choir  by  Angiolo  Gaddi,  pupil  of  Giotto.  The 
chapel  on  the  right  by  his  uncle,  Taddeo  Gaddi.  The  altar 
VOL.  I.  p 


226  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

by  Giotto  himself,  in  the  sacristy  the  Taddeo  Gaddi,  in  the 
refectory  the  Last  Supper,  all  by  Giotto. 

S(.  Marco. — Outside  Fiesole,  where  particularly  should  be  seen  in 
the  cloister-cell  and  choir-stalls  a  Last  Supper  by  Ghirlandajo. 

S/.  Maria  Novella. — The  choir  by  Domenico  Ghirlandajo,  chapel 
by  Giovanni  and  Filippo  Lippi,  a  Madonna  in  marble  by 
Benedetto  da  Majano,  the  great  Madonna  of  Cimabue.  The 
Hell  and  Paradise  of  Andreas  Orcagna.  Opposite  the  court 
of  this  chapel  grey  in  grey  by  Dello  and  Paul  Ucello  ;  from 
the  court  into  the  Capello  del  Spagnolli,  to  the  left  the 
picture  by  Taddeo  Gaddi ;  all  the  rest  by  Simon  Memmi. 

Capella  di  St.  Francesco,  by  Dom.  Ghirlandajo. 

St,  Ambrogio. — Fresco  by  Cosimo  Rosetti. 

St.  Spirito. — Built  by  Brunelleschi  ;  altar-pieces  by  Filippo  Lippi 
and   Botticelli. 

Al  Carmine^  dei  Massacio's. 

St.  Miniato. — Chapel  by  Aretino  Spinello. 

Palazzo  Riccardi. — The  lovely  chapel  by  Benozzo  Gozzoli. 

In  the  Chapel  of  the  Foundling  Hospital. — Beautiful  altar-piece  by 
Ghirlandajo. 

After  visiting  Padua,  Siena,  Perugia,  Assisi,  however,  the 
pupil  became  a  keen  admirer  of  this  early  art,  independently 
of  any  influence  other  than  the  inherent  beauty,  dignity,  and 
purity   of  the   feeling   in   the   works    themselves.^     Moreover, 

^  In  a  letter  from  his  mother,  December  22,  1854,  she  quotes  an  extract  from 
the  Morning  Post,  written  by  a  critic  who  had  been  visiting  the  studios  in  Rome,  and 
who  alludes  to  Leighton's  sympathy  with  Giotto.  It  reads  to-day  as  quaint  and 
curiously  antiquated  as  do  Knight's  scornful  criticisms  on  the  Elgin  Marbles. 
Mrs.  Leighton  writes  :  "  One  sentence  in  your  letter  has  set  your  dear  father  on 
the  horns  of  anxiety.  You  tell  us  we  are  not  to  expect  too  much  from  your  pictures, 
and  remind  us  'that  the  path  which  leads  to  success,  &c.  &c.'  Now,  Papa  fancies 
that  you  had  underpainted  your  canvas  and  were  not  satisfied  with  the  result,  and 
that  was  the  cause  of  your  writing  less  hopefully  than  usual.  We  have  been  wishing 
much  to  hear  what  your  progress  was  ;  knowing  the  subject  of  each  picture,  we 
should  have  understood  if  you  had  reported  progress.  In  case  you  are  in  want 
of  a  little  encouragement,  I  must  tell  you  the  other  day  Papa  enters  the  drawing- 
room  with  a  radiant  face.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  piece  of  paper,  and  requesting 
my  attention,  he  read  me  its  contents,  which  I  copy  for  you,  and  which  I  found 
were  taken  from  a  column  in  the  Morning  Post  devoted  to  criticisms  on  artists 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  227 

the  natural  sympathy  which  Leighton  felt  for  the  art  of 
Greece,  discovered  in  this  early  Italian  work  records  of  her 
influence,  and  that,  in  a  very  striking  manner,  it  was  allied 
to  that  of  the  great  ancients.  In  his  Academy  address  of 
1887  we  find  this  alluded  to  in  the  following  passage: — 

"The  production,  both  in  sculpture  and  painting,  of  the 
middle  period  of  the  thirteenth  century  has  a  character  of  tran- 
sition. In  painting,  the  works,  for  instance,  of  Cimabue  and  of 
Duccio  are  still  impregnated  with  the  Byzantine  spirit,  and  occasion- 
ally reveal  startling  reminiscences  of  classic  dignity  and  power,  to 
which  justice  is  not,  I  think,  sufficiently  rendered.'  In  sculpture,  r< 
the  handiwork  of  Nicolo  Pisano  is  full  of  the  amplitude,  the 
rhythm,  and  virility  of  classic  Art.  I  see  in  it,  indeed,  the  tokens 
of  a  new  life  in  Art,  but  little  sign  of  a  new  artistic  form — it  is 
not    a   dawn  ;    it   is   an   after-glow,    strange,    belated,   and   solemn. 

and  their  works  chiefly,  I  believe,  on  the  Continent,  but  of  that  I  am  not  quite  sure. 
'  I  next  called  on  Mr.  Leighton,  who  is  employed  on  a  canvas  of  many  feet.  His 
subject  is' — then  follows  the  description,  after  which  he  adds:  'Mr.  Leighton  will 
become  a  great  artist  if  he  advances  as  he  has  begun.  His  drawing  is  admirable, 
much  better  than  that  of  English  artists  generally.  Some  of  the  figures  are  Giottoish 
in  the  treatment  of  the  drapery,  which  is  scarcely  pardonable,  because  drapery  fell 
flowingly  about  the  human  body  in  Giotto's  time  as  well  as  now.  Why  imitate  the 
uncomfortable  line  of  that  conventional  rag  ?  It  is,  however,  unfair  to  judge  of 
anything  beyond  drawing  and  composition  in  the  present  state  of  this  picture,  which 
is  an  extraordinary  work  for  so  young  a  man.'  Remarks  more  or  less  favourable 
were  made  on  several  other  artists,  but  nothing  like  what  you  have  just  read.  Do 
you  know  this  critic  ?  I  need  not  tell  you  how  highly  we  appreciate  this  gentleman's 
sagacity;  but  jokes  apart,  Papa  was  rather  puzzled  at  such  a  criticism  about  the 
drapery  of  some  of  the  figures,  because  you  excel  in  such  folds,  so  it  seems  to  us 
odd  that  you  should  skimp  any  of  your  figures.  The  same  column  contains 
observations  on  the  subject  of  'High  Art'  and  large  historical  pictures,  or  rather 
comments  on  those  made  by  young  students,  such  indeed  as  I  have  heard  you 
make,  that  I  could  almost  have  fancied  the  author  was  answering  your  remarks. 
We  were  rather  startled  to  read  in  your  letter  that  you  find  you  had  better  not 
use  the  interests  of  a  professional  man  to  facilitate  the  admission  of  your  picture 
into  the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy,  but  trust  to  its  merits  for  that  result, 
as  we  are  told  the  Exhibition  in  question  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  private  affair  for 
the  works  of  the  members  only  and  such  as  they  choose  to  admit,  which  explains 
perhaps  the  complaints  of  rejection  one  has  read  of  from  time  to  time.  I  hope 
your  picture  may  be  kindly  judged  and  well  hung." 


228  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

In  the  Art  of  Giotto  and  the  Giottosques,  the  transformation  is 
fulfilled.  It  is  an  art  lit  up  with  the  spirit  of  St.  Francis,  warm 
with  Christian  love,  pure  with  Christian  purity,  simple  with  Christian 
humility ;  it  is  the  fit  language  of  a  pious  race  endowed  with  an 
exquisite  instinct  of  the  expressiveness  of  form,  as  form,  but  un- 
trained as  yet  in  the  knowledge  of  the  concrete  facts  of  the 
outer  world ;  an  art  fresh  with  the  dew  and  tenderness  of 
youth,  and  yet  showing,  together  with  this  virginal  quality  of 
young  life,  a  simple  forcefulness  prophetic  of  the  power  of  its 
riper  day.  Within  the  outline  of  these  general  characteristics 
individuality  found  sufficient  scope." 

Even  when  this  transformation  is  fulfilled  in  the  frescoes 
of  Giotto,  any  intelligent  study  of  his  art  at  Padua  and 
Assisi,  while  keeping  in  mind  the  manner  in  which  Pheidias 
felt  and  treated  the  human  form  in  his  sculpture,  would 
prove  to  the  student  how  distinctly  visible  is  the  link 
between  the  ancient  and  this  mediaeval  art ;  though  the 
fact  of  the  latter  being  fired  with  an  ecstasy  of  spiritual 
emotion  of  which  the  Greek  had  no  experience,  may  dis- 
guise the  link  where  feeling  in  art  is  of  more  interest  than 
form.  There  is  the  same  detachment  of  one  form  from 
another,  each  being  given  its  full  expression  and  intention — 
which  induces  a  feeling  of  simplicity  and  serenity  in  the 
greatest  work.  The  form  of  the  head  is  not  smudged  into 
the  throat,  nor  the  throat  into  the  chest,  nor  the  chest  into 
the  arms.  Even  in  the  smallest  Greek  coin  or  intaglio  of 
the  best  period  this  separate  individuality  of  form  in  each 
part  of  the  human  frame  is  accentuated,  and  with  it  a  sense 
of  size  and  breadth.  The  same  fundamental  principles  also, 
adhered  to  by  the  great  Greek  workmen  in  their  treatment 
of  drapery,  is  to  be  traced  in  the  work  of  Giotto. 

But  the  great  Greeks  did  not  invent  the  beauty  they 
immortalised,  any  more  than  did  Leighton  and  Watts ;  the 
Pheidian    school   intuitively   chose   the    noblest    form   it   found 


T\8i 


4 


PORTRAIT  OF  MISS  MABEL  MILLS  (THE  HON. 
MRS.  GRENFELL).     1877 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  229 

in  nature.^  The  notable  gift  with  which  nature  endowed  the 
artists  of  the  Periclean  epoch  consisted  of  eyes  to  perceive, 
and  taste  to  prefer^  the  form  which,  intrinsically  and  most 
convincingly,  inspires  admiration  in  those  imbued  with  the 
finest  sense  of  beauty — not  a  gift  to  invent  something  new 
and  different  from  nature.  In  like  manner  the  gift  nature 
bestowed  on  Leighton  and  Watts  was  the  same,  a  percep- 
tion and  a  preference  for  noble  form  ;  and  in  this  choice  they 
had  been  educated  by  legacies  ffom  Pheidias  and  his  school, 
but  only  so  far  as  these  legacies  induced  them  to  seek  and 
perceive  in  nature  herself  the  elements  of  such  nobility.  In 
painting  the  magnificent  head  and  shoulders  entitled  "  Ata- 
lanta,"^  or  the  reclining  figures  in  "  Idyll,"  ^  Leighton  copied 
as  directly  from  nature  as  when  he  painted  the  portrait  of 
"Miss  Mabel  Mills,"  ^  where  a  similar  beauty  of  form  in  the 
throat  existed  as  in  Miss  Jones,  who  sat  for  "  Atalanta  "  and 
"  Idyll."  When  Watts  painted  his  superb  "  Lady  with  the  4— 
Mirror,"  one  of  his  really  great  achievements,  it  was  the 
model  before  him  whose  beauty  he  was  recording,  though 
his  own  sense  in  recognising  it  had  been  further  inspired 
by  his  study  of  Pheidias.  We  need  not  go  out  of  England 
to  find  types  which  are  as  completely  noble  as  are  those 
in   the    most   inspiring   art  ever    created,    but   the   sense  as   a 


^  On  a  first  visit  to  Athens  I  was  struck  by  the  extraordinary  insignificance 
and  want  of  beauty  in  the  Levantines  of  mixed  race  who  crowded  the  streets  ; 
nowhere  seemed  there  a  trace  left  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  of  the  type 
of  Greek  beauty.  When  travelling  a  few  days  later  to  Colonna,  while  the  train 
stopped  at  a  station  on  the  lower  slopes  of  Hymettus,  I  saw  two  men  hurrying 
through  the  adjacent  olive  groves  to  catch  it.  They  were  dressed  in  the  Greek 
costume  of  the  provinces — an  embroidered  waistcoat  cut  low  leaving  the  throat 
bare,  the  short  white  plaited  skirt,  and  the  heavy  cloak  falling  from  one  shoulder. 
Either  of  these  men  might  have  sat  to  Pheidias  for  the  Theseus.  Both  were 
more  magnificent  in  form  than  any  statue  ever  made.  Doubtless,  in  the  days  of 
her  ancient  glory,  Greece  contained  a  far  larger  proportion  of  inhabitants  who 
were  beautiful  than  are  to  be  found  now  ;  nevertheless  Pheidias  without  a  doubt 
had  to  exercise  his  gift  of  selecting  the  best,  no  less  than  did  Leighton  and  Watts. 

*  See  List  of  Illustrations.  ^  Ibid.  *  Ibid. 


d 


230  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

rule  is  wanting  in   English  artists  to  select  and  to  prefer  such 
nobility. 

Leighton  writes  to  a  friend  in  1879  : — 

"  I  have  just  remembered  a  circumstance  which  might  be  worth 
mentioning  :  I  painted  pictures  in  an  out-of-door  top  light  and  with 
realistic  aims  (of  course,  subordinate  to  style)  in  the  old  Frankfurt 
days  before  I  came  over  here,  and  long  before  I  heard  of  *  modern  ' 
ideas  in  painting.  In  this,  perhaps,  more  than  in  anything,  the 
boy  was  the  father  of  the  man,  for  it  is  still  the  corner-stone  of 
my  faith  that  Art  is  not  a  corpse,  but  a  living  thing,  and  that  the 
highest  respect  for  the  old  masters,  who  are  and  will  remain 
supreme,  does  not  lie  in  doing  as  they  did,  but  as  men  of  their 
strength  would  do  if  they  were  now  (oh,  derisim  !)  amongst  us." 

Leighton  taught  Watts  to  appreciate  the  Greek  inherit- 
ance to  be  found  in  early  Italian  art ;  and  I  have  frequently 
heard  Watts  comment  on  the  evidence  of  this  legacy  in 
Giotto's  work.  Watts,  by  ventilating  the  results  of  his 
studies  of  Pheidian  art  with  Leighton,  and  analysing  the 
elemental  principles  on  which  it  was  grounded,  aided  his 
brother  artist  in  securing  a  faster  hold  on  the  sources  of  his 
individual  preferences. 

No  two  characters  could  have  been  more  dissimilar  than 
those  of  Watts  and  Leighton,  no  two  men  could  have  led 
more  different  external  lives ;  Leighton's  great  and  varied 
gifts  requiring  for  their  full  exercise  the  whole  area  of  life's 
stage,  Watts'  genius  demanding  seclusion,  and  days  undisturbed 
by  friction  with  the  outer  world.  Watts'  first  and  great  object 
in  life  was  to  preserve  his  work,  and  to  bequeath  it  to 
his  country,  which  he,  happily  for  his  country,  was  enabled 
to  do  ;  Leighton's  object  was  to  complete  a  work  as  far  as 
industry  and  his  gifts  would  enable  him  to  complete  it,  then 
— as  he  would  say — "to  get  rid  of  it  and  never  see  it  again  ; 
but  try  to  do   better   next  time "  !     The  one  was  frank,   free, 


VENUS  DISROBING  FOR  THE  BATH/*     1867 
By  permission  of  Sir  A.  Henderson,  Bart. 


PHRYNE  AT  ELEUSIS/'     1882 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  231 

courageous  ;  the  other  almost  morbidly  self-depreciative,  sensi- 
tive, and  timid.  All  the  same,  no  two  workmen  could  have 
had  more  sympathy  with  one  another  in  their  true  aims 
and  aspirations,  or  more  mutual  admiration  for  each  other's 
artistic  gifts. 

Watts,  to  his  credit,  had  from  his  first  acquaintance  with 
Leighton  discerned  that  "the  unusual  position"  which  Leighton 
undoubtedly  held  from  his  first  appearance  in  the  London 
world  to  the  day  of  his  death,  was  due  to  the  possession  of 
unusual  gifts,  exercised  in  a  very  unusually  generous  and 
public-spirited  manner,  and  not  to  reasons  invented  by  those 
who  were  envious  of  this  prominent  position. 

Watts  wrote  to  Leighton  after  they  became  neighbours 
in   Kensington  : — 

"  I  have  been  worrying  myself  by  fancying  you  rather  mis- 
understood the  drift  of  my  observations  respecting  the  value  of 
social  consideration  to  a  professional  man,  that  I  meant  to  imply 
you  sold  your  pictures  in  consequence  of  the  unusual  position 
you  undoubtedly  hold  ;  knowing  me  and  my  opinions  as  you 
do,  you  could  hardly  think  so,  yet  poets  and  artists  are  pro- 
verbially sensitive  beings.  I  know  I  am  myself  to  a  degree  that 
could  hardly  be  imagined,  though  not  with  regard  to  opinion 
of  my  work  ;  I  am  resigned,  if  not  contented,  to  preserve  what 
I  can  do  for  posterity,  conscious  that  no  other  judgment  can 
really  be  worth  anything  ;  I  am  very  often  unhappy,  thinking 
that  after  all  the  best  I  can  do  may  not  be  worthy  of  being 
brought  before  the  great  tribunal  at  all  ;  but  I  do  not  allow 
myself  to  brood  over  the  subject  more  than  I  can  help.  How- 
ever, I  do  not  attempt  to  deaden  the  keen  dread  I  have  of 
giving  pain  or  offence,  and  am  really  miserable  when  I  think 
I  have  done  so,  or  been  unjust  ;  I  don't  think  I  am  often  the 
latter,  but  I  may  by  clumsiness  fall  into  the  former  regrettable 
position.  I  should  grieve  indeed  if  any  word  or  deed  of  mine 
should  ever  be  offensive  to  you,  for  you  know  me  to  be  always 
yours  most  sincerely,  SiGNOR," 


232  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Immediately  on  his  arrival  from  Italy  Leighton  paid  a 
visit  to  his  family  at  Bath,  arriving  on  May  24.  He  re- 
turned to  London  shortly  after,  where  his  family  joined  him 
on  June  15,  and  the  introduction  so  long  desired  by 
Leighton  took  place  between  his  parents  and  sisters  and  his 
great  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sartoris.  In  December  1854 
Leighton's  mother  had  written  :  "How  delightful  to  see  you 
again,  and  perhaps  we  may  spend  the  next  winter  together, 
but  of  that  I  am  uncertain.  In  England  we  shall  not  be, 
and  both  Papa  and  I  incline  to  Paris,  but  Gussy  has  an 
anxious  desire  to  go  to  Berlin.  The  Sartoris'  being  in  Paris 
would  be  a  strong  inducement  to  us  to  go  there,  as  we  very 
much  wish  to  make  your  friends'  acquaintance,  and  we  should 
most  likely  meet  at  their  house  agreeable  people.  I  am 
exceedingly  sorry  I  overlooked  Mrs.  Sartoris'  friendly  message, 
which  I  have  since  discovered  in  your  former  letter.  Pray 
offer  her  my  best  compliments,  and  assure  her  I  consider 
her  great  kindness  to  you  gives  her  a  claim  upon  my  sym- 
pathy, and  I  shall  rejoice  to  have  an  opportunity  of  giving 
her  this  assurance  in  person." 

In  February  his  mother  wrote :  "  I  hope  you  will  not 
long  be  separated  from  your  friends  the  Sartoris  when  you 
leave  Rome.  We  all  sincerely  desire  to  become  acquainted 
with  the  valued  friends  of  whom  we  hear  so  much." 

Later  his  father  wrote :  "  With  regard  to  your  reasons 
for  remaining  at  Rome  during  the  spring,  you  have  this 
time  at  least  the  best  of  the  argument.  If  there  were  no 
other  than  your  wish  to  give  more  tangible  form  to  your 
gratitude  to  your  kind  friends,  the  Sartoris,  it  would  be 
sufficient,  to  say  nothing  of  the  drawings  from  M.  Angelo 
and  Raphael." 

And  in  the  same  cover  his  mother  says :  "I  feel,  with 
your  father,  great  satisfaction  at  your  undertaking  a  likeness 
of   Mrs.    Sartoris — I    hope    it    may   prove    a    satisfactory  one. 


PORTRAIT  OF  MRS,  ADELAIDE  SARTORIS 

Drawn  by  Lord  Leighton  for  her  friend  Lady  Bloomfield,  1867 
By  permission  of  the  Hon,  Mrs,  Sartoris 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  233 

Give  our  love  to  Mrs.  Sartoris."  Leighton's  younger  sister 
kept  a  diary  in  those  days.  Written  in  this  are  notes 
which  describe  the  keen  appreciation  which  she  and  her 
family  felt  for  her  brother's  friends.  "In  fact  she  is,  as 
Fred  says,  an  angel.  She  seems  very  fond  of  him,  as  she 
might  be  of  a  younger  brother.  .  .  .  She  is  very  stout,  high 
coloured,  and  has  little  hair.  But  the  shape  of  her  mouth 
is  very  fine,  the  modulations  of  her  voice  in  speaking  are 
exquisite.  She  is  a  creature  who  can  never  age,  and  before 
whose  attractions  those  of  younger  and  prettier  women  must 
always  pale."  "August  1855. — Fred  returned  to  Bath  to 
stay  with  us  a  little  while.  Beautiful  drives  together.  So 
generous  in  giving  me  several  volumes  of  poetry."  "Sept. — 
Left  us  to  go  to  Paris." 

While  in  London  Leighton  wrote  the  following  to  his 
master,    Steinle : — 

Translation.'] 

10  Maddox  Street,  Bond  Street, 
London,  1855. 

My  very  dear  Friend, — At  last  I  am  able  to  write  to  you 
again.  When  I  sent  off  my  last  letter  to  you  I  was  busily 
packing  for  my  journey  ;  now  I  have  been  ah-eady  six  weeks 
in  England,  and  it  seems  a  year  since  I  left  Rome.  I  scarcely 
need  tell  you,  dearest  Friend,  that  at  first,  in  this  London  hurly-  ^ 
burly,^  I  hardly  knew  whether  I  was  standing  on  my  head  or 
my  heels :  I  will  not  say  that  this  condition  has  not  had  a 
certain  charm.  I  have  made  several  acquaintances,  have  been 
cordially  received,  and  have  had  considerably  more  praise  for 
my  picture  than  it  deserves.  However,  I  have  already  set 
seriously  to  work  again,  and  expect  shortly  to  commence  upon  \  1^ 
a  new  composition.  It  is  a  real  grief  to  me,  dear  Master,  to 
have  to  work  without  your  guidance. 

My  succes,  here  in  London,  which,  for  a  beginner,  has  been 
extraordinarily  great,  fills  me  with  anxiety  and  apprehension  ;  I 
am  always  thinking,   "What   can   you    exhibit   next   year  that  will 


234  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

fulfil    the    expectations    of    the    public  ? "       When     I    have    settled 
anything  definitely,   I   shall  report  to  my  master  in  Frankfurt. 

Now,  however,  as  regards  the  photographs.  Owing  to  un- 
foreseen circumstances,  Mrs.  Sartoris  (whom  I  introduced  to  you 
in  my  last  letter)  was  obliged  to  alter  the  plans  of  her  journey, 
and  will  not  leave  this  for  Germany  until  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember. What  now  ?  Will  you  wait  so  long,  or  shall  I  seek 
an   opportunity  to   send   you   your   seven   things  ? 

And  now,  my  Friend,  how  are  you  occupied  ?  Do  you  still 
sparkle  with  beautiful  inventions  ?  Tell  me  all  that  you  are  doing. 
I  had  a  delightful  surprise  recently  when  I  saw  your  long  expected 
"  Court  Scene "  in  Paris ;  it  is  a  charming  composition.  I  tell 
you  nothing  of  the  great  Paris  Exhibition,  for  you  naturally  will 
not  neglect  to  see  a  thing  so  excessively  interesting ;  it  throws 
light  upon  a  great  many  things.  If  only  you  could  come  in 
September !  then  we  could  meet  again  and  renew  old  times  a 
little  ;  it  would  be  very  delightful.  I  should  like  extremely  to 
arrange  something  of  the  kind  with  you  ;  we  should  certainly 
agree  very  well. 

Remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife  and  my  old  friends 
in  Frankfurt,  and  keep  in  mind  your  loving  pupil, 

Fred  Leighton. 

In  a  letter  to  his   mother,  before  she  arrived  in  London, 

Leighton    refers    to    Ruskin's    criticism    when    comparing    his 

*' Cimabue's   Madonna"  to  Millais'   "Rescue": — 

London. 

I  do  wonder  at  the  critics :  will  they  never  let  "  the  cat 
die"?  What  Ruskin  means  by  Millais'  picture  being  "greater" 
than  mine,  is  that  the  joy  of  a  mother  over  her  rescued  children 
is  a  higher  order  of  emotion  than  any  expressed  in  my  picture. 
X  I  wish  people  would  remember  St.  Paul  on  the  subject  of  hateful 
C^  <•  comparisons  :  "  There  is  one  glory  of  the  sun,  and  another  glory 
of  the  moon,  and  another  glory  of  the  stars,  for  one  star  dififereth 
from  another  star  in  glory." 

I   spent   last   night  an    evening  that  Gussy  would   have  envied 
me.      We   (I    and   the   Sartoris   and   one    or   two    others)    were   at 
-^  Hallo's,   who   is   the   most   charming  fellow   in   the   world. 


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WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  235 

Having  sent  his  "  Romeo "  picture  to  Paris,  Leighton 
was  not  quite  unknown  to  the  art  world  when  he  arrived 
there  in  September  1855.  The  "  Cimabue's  Madonna," 
hanging  on  the  walls  of  the  Royal  Academy  in  London, 
and  this  picture  being  shown  at  the  great  International 
Exhibition  in  France,  he  can  fairly  be  said  to  have  entered  at 
the  age  of  twenty-four  the  arena  where  he  competed  with  the 
first  artists  in  Europe.  By  a  mistake  the  "Romeo"  picture 
was  hung  in  the  Roman  instead  of  the  English  section  in  the 
International  Exhibition.  The  following  extract  appeared  in 
a  publication  at  the  time,  and  gives  the  unbiassed  criticism 
of  one  who  was  unknown  to  Leighton  : — 

"  Strange  it  may  seem,  but  such  is  the  fact,  that  of  the 
thirteen  canvasses  she  (Rome)  has  sent  on  this  occasion  to  sus- 
tain her  credit,  that  which  for  intrinsic  merit  takes  the  lead — 
in  which  soul  for  expression  and  true  artistic  feeling  are  con- 
spicuous, is  due  to  the  pencil  of  an  Englishman — Frederic 
Leighton,  ne  a  Scarborough,  e'leve  de  Mons.  Edouard  Steinle  de  Frank- 
fort. The  subject  of  this  picture — and  it  is  a  fine  one — is  the 
reconciliation  of  the  Houses  of  Montagu  and  Capulet  over  the 
bodies  of  Romeo  and  Juliet.  Let  us  hope  that  his  native 
country  may  hear  and  see  more  of  so  promising  an  artist  as 
Mr.  Leighton." 

And  again  : — 

"  When  these  lines  were  written  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Channel,  Mr.  Leighton  had  already  sent  his  'pencil's'  first  repre- 
sentation to  the  Royal  Academy,  causing  therein  not  a  little 
surprise,  fluttering  the  dovecots  in  Corioli.  We  beg  he  will 
construe  our  sincere  anticipations  into  a  hearty   welcome." 

In  the  early  days  of  September  1855,  Leighton  was  in 
Paris  preparing  to  settle  in  for  a  winter's  hard  work.  The 
following  letters  to  his  mother  and  father  and  to  Steinle  were 
written  soon  after  his   arrival.       In  that  to  Steinle,   Leighton 


^^ 


236  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

alludes  to  the   serious  work   he    has    before   him,   in  fpainting 
"  The  Triumph  of  Music"  : — 

Hotel  Canterbury,  Rue  de  la  Paix, 

Sunday,  1855. 

Dearest  Mamma, — Though  I  have,  of  course,  nothing  to  tell 

you    yet,    still,    as   it  is  Sunday  morning,    I   send   you   a  few  lines 

as   a   token   of   continued   vegetation.       Paris   is   bright   and  warm 

^^         and  sunny,  and  contrasts  incredibly  with  the  murkiness  of  London. 

^  I    have   already   set   to    work  to  look  for  a  studio,  but  shall  have 

great  difficulty  in  finding  one,  and  shall   have  to  pay  about    1500 

\  ^         francs    per    annum    unfurnished;    my    furniture    I    shall    of    course 

hire,  not  buy — ci  vuol  pazienza. 

Hotel  Canterbury, 
Saturday,  1855. 

Dear  Papa, — When  one  has  bad  news  to  swallow,  there  is 
nothing  like  taking  the  bull  by  the  horns  and  engulphing  the  dose 
at  once  :  this  is  the  bull  to  be  swallowed,  horns  and  all.  I  have, 
after  great  trouble  and  manifold  inquiries,  taken  the  only  studio 
that  at  all  suited  me,  and  for  that  I  give  unfurnished  150  francs  a 
month.  It  is  enormous,  but  unavoidable  ;  nor  have  I  been  at  a 
disadvantage  from  being  an  Englishman,  for  two  artists  of  my 
acquaintance,  one  a  Parisian  just  returning  from  Rome,  the  other 
a  Frankfurter,  have  seen  precisely  the  samej  and  only  the  same, 
studios  as  I  did.  It  is  the  dearth  of  studios  and  the  great  demand 
for  them  that  makes  the  price  so  high.  Those  who  have  had 
studios  some  time  of  course  pay  very  much  less,  others  put  up 
with  little  holes  far  too  small  to  paint  a  picture  of  any  size. 
Carlo  Perugini  is  painting  in  the  studio  of  a  friend,  and  that  is  a 
strip  not  large  enough  for  one  person.  There  was  only  one 
studio  which  I  could  for  a  moment  think  of  besides  this  one  I 
^-  have  taken,  and  that  costs  infinitely  less  ;  but  not  only  was  it 
too  small — it  had  been  built  this  summer,  and  is  not  yet  finished 
painting,  feels  cold  and  damp,  and  would  no  doubt  have  laid  me 
up  with   the  rheumatism. 

I    have    been    advised    and    actually    assisted   in    everything   by 

Hebert,   who    is    a    friend    as    well    as    an    old   acquaintance,    and 

^         than    whom    nobody    knows    the    resources    of    Paris    better.      He 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  237 

took  me  about  to  get  my  furniture,  &c.,  and  I  am  happy  to  say 
that  I  have  bought  everything,  including  ample  bedroom  and  table 
linen,  crockery,  and  knives,  spoons,  &c.,  all  under  ^30.  I  have 
quite  a  little  fond  de  menage;  this  is  the  only  cheap  thing  I  have 
done  in  Paris,  everything  is  exactly  as  dear  as  London.  It 
certainly  is  lucky   I   sold  my  picture. 

My  frame  cost,  with  time  and  trouble  of  exhibition,  320  francs. 

[Portion  of  letter  to  his  father.] 

21  Rue  Pigalle,  Tuesday. 

I  have  nothing  whatever  to  tell  you,  except  that  I  have  just 
finished  a  head  of  Carlo  Perugini  (for  myself),  which  is  the  best 
thing  of  the  kind  I  ever  did.  It  has  not  interfered  with  my 
picture,  but  has  stopped  up  unavoidable  gaps.  I  have  got 
H.  Wilson^  to  teach  me  the  Couture  Method — d  fin  d'avoir  tate  a 
tout.  Couture  paints  well  in  spite  of  his  method,  which  might 
easily  lead  to  superficial  mannerism.  The  best  dodge  is  to  be  a 
devil  of  a  clever  fellow. 

Will  you    do    me    a  great    favour — for    my   friend    Hebert,   to 
whom   I    am    under   great    obligations  ?       If   you    can   get    me    for 
him    any    Greek    classic    (if    Homer,    all    the    better)    in    the    same      ^ 
edition  as   my  Brumek's  Anacreon   with  Latin   notes,    I   shall   be   much 
obliged.      Hebert  wants  very  much   to  have  any  such   work. 

Translation.  ] 

21  Rue  Pigalle,  Paris, 

Saturday^  Septe/nder  zg,  1855. 

My  very  dear  Friend, — At  last  I  find  the  long-desired  oppor- 
tunity to  send  you  the  photographs  ;  our  old  Gamba  has  undertaken 
to  convey  them  to  you.  How  I  envy  him  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  again,  dear  Master  !  You,  on  your  side,  will  certainly  have 
great  pleasure  in  seeing  your  old  pupil  again.  He  is  just  the 
same  as  ever  ;  rather  more  of  a  beard,  and  broader  shouldered, 
but  still  quite  the  old  Gamba.  He  will  be  able  to  tell  you 
that  we  have  cherished  your  memory  with  love  and  reverence, 
and  are  always  proud  to  call  ourselves  your  pupils. 

I    should    like    to    describe   to    you   what    I    am    painting   now, 

^  Mr.  Herbert  Wilson. 


>: 


238  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

but   the    subject    I    have    chosen    is    such    an    absolute    matter    of 
sentiment,    that    your    imagination    might    well    paint    something 
^  quite  different,  in  comparison  with  which  ^  my  picture  might  sub- 

sequently suffer  ;  I  would  rather  wait  until  I  can  send  you  a 
photograph.  It  is  a  picture  with  only  four  figures,  but  life-size. 
I  stand  in  alarm  before  the  blank  canvas.  One  learns  gradually 
to  understand  that  one  really  can  do  nothing. 

The  photographs  in  the  portofolio  with  my  writing  on  them 
are  yours  ;  I  hope  they  will  please  you.  You  must  accept  them 
as  a  little  memento  of  my  Italian  hobbledehoy-hood. 

Remember  me  respectfully  to  Madame  Steinle,  to  my  other 
friends  "  tante  cose." 

Keep  me  in  remembrance. — Your  grateful  pupil, 

Fred  Leighton. 

Again  to  Steinle  he  writes : — 

Paris,  Rue  Pigalle  21. 

No  one  could  sympathise  better  than  I  with  your  melancholy 
loneliness  in  the  hermitage  of  Frankfurt  ;  in  that  air  an  artist 
breathes  with  difficulty  ;  I  confess  I  should  be  entirely  para- 
lysed by  the  lack  of  models  and  other  resources  in  Frankfurt  ; 
one  all  too  easily  loses  sight  of  the  infinite  importance  of  a  com- 
plete material  representation,  which  is  always  the  special  mark 
of  the  artist;  I  often  see  with  amazement  how  even  quite  clever 
^  people  behave  in  this  respect.  It  has  quite  a  plausible  sound 
if  one  says  (such  a  fellow  as  Strauch,  for  example),  "  Away  with 
materialism  !  Pfui !  The  great  artist  is  he  who  has  the  most 
ideas  !  "  Stop,  my  little  man  !  do  you  not  feel  what  a  store  of 
artistic  cowardice  lies  behind  your  words  ?  Ah,  behind  so  broad 
a  shield  you  can  elude  all  the  difficulties  of  your  work !  He 
\  who  has  the  most  ideas  is  first  only  as  the  greatest  poet  or  even 
Y  ■  philosopher!  He  only  is  an  artist  who  can  sei  his  ideas  forth.  Art 
means  the  power  to  do  ;  undoubtedly  the  idea  is  the  source,  the 
achieved  is  art  ;  but  an  idea  completely  embodied  can  no  more 
exist  without  the  artist  power  than  a  thousand  ideas  that  are 
only  muddled  away  by  agitated  incapacity  1 

I  gladly  let  myself  go  on  such  matters  to  you,  for  I  know 
"^  that  we  are  of  one  mind  i  regarding  them,  and  it  does  one  good 
^L-      to  pour  out  one's  heart  a  little  for  once. 


J 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  239 

I  hear,  with  particular  interest,  that  you  are  painting  the  little 
picture  of  the  Madonna  that  you  composed  twenty-three  years 
ago  in  the  diligence  when  you  were  travelling  to  Italy ;  it  is 
a  very  good  thing.  I  imagine  a  lovely  landscape  in  the  back-  ' 
ground  ;  an  oleander,  rich  in  starry  bloom ;  grey  olives  and  s^ 
stately  cypresses  wave  in  the  distance  ;  soft  violets  nestle  on  the 
bank  of  the  cool  water,  and  gaze  with  earnest  eyes  out  of  the 
whispering  grass.  On  the  still  bosom  of  the  stream  sleep  white 
blossoms,  which  have  flown  down  when  the  winds  breathed  on 
the  limes,  and  see,  in  a  secret  nook  in  the  shade  of  the  lovely 
Himmelsglocken,  the  strawberry  bed  from  which  the  black-eyed 
John  will  peep  at  the  treasures.  Above,  in  the  branches,  many- 
coloured  birds  frolic,  and  chase  one  another,  and  flit  through 
the  grove  in  harmonious,  song-rich  flight.  And  the  Madonna ! 
how  tenderly  and  lovingly  she  looks  down  upon  the  two  playing 
children  1      Have  I  described  your  picture  ? 

In  order  to  send  it  to  England  (and  how  delighted  I  should 
be  to  see  it)  you  should,  so  much  I  know  from  personal  ex- 
perience, cause  your  picture  to  reach  the  Royal  Academy  (without 
fail)  on  the  first  of  April ;  I  believe  that  influence  is  no  use  at 
all,  for  the  Academicians  are  very  autocratic  ;  I  will,  however, 
obtain  all  the  information  in  good  time.  I,  who  was  even  more 
totally  unknown  in  England  than  you,  have  refrained,  by  the 
advice  of  my  friends,  from  applying  to  any  person,  and  have 
left  my  pictures  entirely  to  themselves. 

Now  I  must  close  this  immoderately  long  letter.  It  seems 
not  impossible  to  me  that  I  may  pass  through  Frankfurt  next 
spring,  then  we  will  have  a  good  long  gossip  together,  won't  we  ? 

Till  then,  keep  in  warm  remembrance  your  English  pupil, 

Fred  Leighton. 

It  is  clear  that  Paris  lacked  the  charm  which  Italy  had 
for  Leighton,  Parisians  have  been  compared  to  the  Greeks 
with  respect  to  the  peculiarly  fin  and  agile  manner  in  which 
they  can  exercise  their  intellects  ;  and  so  far  Leighton  might 
have  been  expected  to  fit  in  happily  and  with  enjoyment 
to  himself  into  their  life.      But  though  he  felt  a  great  respect 


240  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

and  admiration  for  the  genuine  artistic  sense  whicli  the 
French  undoubtedly  possess  as  a  nation,  Leighton,  no  less 
as  a  man  than  as  an  artist,  was  more  Greek  than  is  any- 
typical  Parisian.  He  viewed  the  beauty  of  nature  from  a 
less  circumscribed  standpoint,  his  emotions  were  excited  with  a 
V^  more  ingenuous  spontaneity  and  less  from  sl  parH-przs  a.ttitude. 
than,  as  a  rule,  are  those  of  the  French  artist.  Paris  was  too 
artificial  to  appeal  strongly  to  Leighton's  taste.  As  with  the 
Greeks,  grace  and  charm  in  the  form  of  living  as  in  Art 
was  a  necessity  to  his  well-being  ;  but  he  found  more  natural 
expression  of  such  grace  and  charm  in  the  unsophisticated 
Italian  than  among  the  artificial  and  more  highly  finished 
manners  of  the  Parisians.  We  never  read  of  the  eager 
longing  to  be  in  France  that  Leighton's  letters  show  when 
it  was  a  question  of  a  return  to  Italy.  Also  Paris  does  not 
appear  to  have  suited  his  health.  He  writes  to  his  mother 
after  living  there   some  weeks  : — 

21  Rue  Pigalle,  Sunday,  21. 
Dearest  Mamma, — I  observe  in  a  general  way  that  the  climate 
of  Paris  is  very  exciting  to  my  nerves — infinitely  more  than   Rome. 
The  life  I  lead  is  one  of  unprecedented  regularity  and  absence  of 
j^     any  kind  of  excess,  yet  sometimes  in  the  evening,  when  I  have  lit 
"^        my  lamp  and  my  fire  and  sit  down  to  work,  I  can  neither  play,  nor 
read,  nor  draw,  nor  do  anything  for  five   minutes  together  for  sheer 
"C*-       restlessness  and  fidgets.     That  sleep,  too,  that  used  to  be  the  corner- 
stone of  my  accomplishments  and  the  pillar  of  my  strength,  is  not 
Vl       by  any  means  what  it  was — non  sum  qualis  erant  !  ' 

The  Sartoris  have  not  changed  their  plans  more  than  five  or  six 
dozen  times  since  you  saw  them.  They  are  now  staying  in  the 
country  with  the  Marquise  de  I'Aigle,  Edward's  sister.  They  will 
be  here  at  the  beginning  of  November  and  stay  three  months — 
ooray  !  Lady  Cowley  is,  I  believe,  not  yet  come  back.  I  see  a  great 
deal  of  Herbert  Wilson  here.  He  has  with  him,  too,  an  arch-brick 
^  of  a  friend,  a  naval  captain  whom  I  like  most  particularly.  I  am 
painting  his  head  for  practice  and  for  him — he  is  a  fine  specimen 
of  an  English  sailor. 


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WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  241 

About  learning  by  heart,  don't  you  think  it  will  be  a  great  waste 
of  my  very  little  eyesight  to  read  the  same  thing  over  and  over 
again  until  I  know  it  ? 

21  Rue  ViGx\.i.¥.,  October  26. 

My  health,  to  return  to  the  eternal  refrain,  is  just  what  it 
was.  I  shall  find  very  little  difficulty  in  giving  up  coffee  or 
tea  after  dinner,  as  I  never  take  either  ;  indeed,  of  late  I  have 
given  up  wine,  beer,  gin,  and  other  spirituous  liquors  as  utterly  C^ 
exciting  and  damnable.  Nothing  makes  me  sleep  as  I  used 
except  going  to  bed  late,  and  as  I  am  always  either  sleepy, 
tired,  or  fidgety  in  the  evening,  I  very  seldom  get  beyond  ten  A 
o'clock. 

Carlo  Perugini,  whom  I  saw  to-day,  sends  "tante  cose"  to 
his  cousin.  He  is  a  charming  boy,  most  gentlemanlike,  and 
has  that  peculiar  childlike  simplicity  which  belongs  to  none  but 
Italians. 


Leighton's  friendship  with  Brock  and  the  French  sculptor 
Dalou  began  in  these  autumn  days  of  1855.  He  also  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Whistler,  whose  etchings  he  admired 
greatly.  The  work  of  Jean  Francois  Millet  also  delighted 
him  no  less  than  that  of  Corot. 

His  sister's  diary  contains  the  following  notes:  "Novem- 
ber 25. — We  arrived  at  Paris.  Our  dear,  handsome  Fred 
v^^as  here  to  meet  us.  December  i. — Fred  comes  to  see  us 
daily,  though  sometimes  only  for  five  minutes.  He  is  pale 
and  coughs  a  good  deal ;  it  makes  us  uneasy.  He  often 
comes  to  dinner.  Presents  to  us  on  New  Year's  day.  Took 
me  to  the  Conservatoire.  Always  generous.  We  went  often 
to  Mrs.   Sartoris  in  the  evening." 

It  was  in  Paris  that  Leighton  probably  first  enjoyed  to 
the  full  the  culture  of  his  instincts  for  the  drama.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Sartoris  remained  in  Paris  during  the  winter  and 
spring,  and  Mr.  Henry  Greville  arrived  there  on  February 
28th,   1856. 

VOL.  I.  Q 


242  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

Extracts  from  his  published  diaries  give  a  picture  of  the 
77iilieu    in   which    Leighton's    hours   of   relaxation    from   work 

were  spent : — 

27  Rue  du  Faubourg  St.  Honore, 
Saturday,  March  i,  1856. 

I  left  London  on  Thursday  with  Flahault  and  Charles,  and  after 

a  smooth  passage  slept  at  Boulogne  and  came  on  here  yesterday. 

After    dining   tete-a-tete    with    the    excellent    doctor    (the    Hollands 

dined  out),  I   went   to   Adelaide   Sartoris',  where    I    found  Herbert 

Wilson,   Leighton,  and  other  young  and  good-looking  artists,   and 

some   ladies   whom  I    did   not   know,   and   amongst   them   Madame 

Kalergi,  a  niece  of  Nesselrode,  a  tall,  large,  white-looking  woman, 

who   has   a   reputation   for    cleverness  and    a  great   talent   on   the 

pianoforte.     This   morning    I   went  to   Leighton's   studio,  and   saw 

his  drawings,  which  are  full  of  genius. 

Thursday,  March  6. 

Heard  in  the  morning  that  Covent  Garden  theatre  was  burnt 
at  seven  yesterday  morning,  and  went  to  announce  the  event  to 
Mario.  In  the  evening,  with  Adelaide  Sartoris  and  Leighton,  to 
Ristori's  rentr^e  in  *'  Mirrha."  She  acted  more  finely  than  ever, 
and  I  was  enchanted  with  her  wonderful  beauty  and  classic 
grace :  her  tenderness,  in  this  part  especially,  is  indescribable. 
Adelaide  Sartoris  had  never  seen  her  before,  and  was  as  much 
delighted  as  astonished  at  the  performance.  The  audience  was 
in  a  frenzy  of  enthusiasm,  and  yet  I  do  not  believe  half  the 
people  present   understood  Italian. 

Friday,  March  20. 

I  went  last  night  with  Adelaide  Sartoris  and  Leighton  to  see 
Ristori  in   Alfieri's  play   of   "  Rosmunda." 

In  reading  it  I  was  convinced  I  should  be  bored  by  so  in- 
flated a  rhodomontade,  and  that  the  part  of  Rosmunda,  being 
one  of  unmitigated  fury  and  violence,  was  unsuited  to  an  actress 
whose  chief  merit  seemed  to  consist  in  her  power  of  delineating 
the  gentler  passions.  I  was  therefore  but  little  prepared  for  the 
wonderful  effect  she  produced  upon  me  and  on  the  audience. 
The  play  is  horrible  and  offensive,  but  her  manner  of  rendering 
this  odious  part  is  nothing  short  of  sublime.  Her  beauty  in  the 
costume   of   the    sixth    century   is  beyond   all  description,  and  the 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  243 

manner  in  which  she  varies  the  phases  of  the  same  passions  of 
hatred  and  vengeance,  and  the  prodigious  power  of  the  whole 
impersonation,  are  marvellous.  Her  acting  of  the  scene  in  the 
third  act,  when  she  tells  Ildevaldo  that  Amalchilde  loves  Romalda, 
is  about  the  best  thing  I  have  seen  her  do  ;  and  the  last  act,  in 
which  she  murders  her  rival,  and  the  way  in  which  she  seizes 
her  and  drags  her  up  the  steps,  is  like  a  whirlwind  sweeping 
everything  before  it  ;  too  terrible  almost  to  witness,  and  pre- 
vented my  sleeping  all  night. 

Monday,  March  24. 
In  the  evening  I  went  (as  I  generally  do)  to  Adelaide  Sartoris', 
where  I  found  Bickerton  Lyons,  French,  and  Leighton.  This 
latter  is  a  singularly  gifted  youth.  Besides  his  talent  for  paint- 
ing and  drawing,  which  is  already  at  twenty-five  very  remarkable, 
and  likely,  if  he  lives,  to  place  him  in  the  highest  rank  of  modern 
artists,  he  appears  endowed  with  an  extraordinary  facility  for 
anything  he  attempts  to  do.  He  speaks  many  foreign  languages 
with  remarkable  fluency,  and  almost  without  accent  ;  he  is  pos- 
sessed of  much  musical  intelligence,  and  on  matters  connected 
with  the  art  which  he  has  made  his  particular  study  and  profes- 
sion his  information  is  very  extensive — and,  I  am  told  by  others, 
better  able  to  judge  than  myself,  that  this  is  the  case.  With  all 
these  qualities,  natural  and  acquired,  I  never  saw  a  more  amiable 
•or  single-hearted  youth. 

Wednesday,  March  26. 
Went  with  the  Sartoris's,  Montfort,  and  Leighton  to  the 
Palais  Bourbon  to  see  Morny's  pictures — a  charming  collection. 
The  Emperor  had  just  sent  him  two  beautiful  pieces  of  Beauvais 
tapestry — marvellous  specimens  of  that  manufacture  ;  in  return, 
I  suppose,  for  his  speech  of  the  other  day,  with  which  his 
Majesty   was   highly   pleased. 

Wednesday,  April  2,  1856. 
In   the    morning,  with    Adelaide    Sartoris,    Browning   the   poet,       x'i 
Cartwright,   and    Leighton,   to    the    Pourtales  Gallery — a  charming       ^ 
collection.       The    pictures    that    most    pleased    me    were    a    Paul 
Veronese,    a    Rembrandt,    and    a    Greuze.       There    is    also    a    fine 
-collection   of    Raphael   ware — glass    and    bronzes.       Pourtales    has 


244  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

ordered   by  will   that   this  collection  should  remain  intact  for  ten 
years,  and  then  to  be  sold  to  the  highest  bidder. 

Wednesday ^  April  q,  1856. 
Last  night,  after  a  dinner  given  by  a  Lady  Monson  to  Adelaide 
Sartoris,  Leighton,  and  myself,  at  Philippe's,  we  adjourned  to  the 
first  representation  of  the  Italian  translation  of  Legouve's  play 
of  "  Medea " — that  in  which  Rachel  refused,  after  attending  re- 
hearsals, to  act  the  principal  part,  and  about  which  there  was 
a  trial.  Great  curiosity  was  shown  about  this  performance,  and 
there  was  a  great  scramble  for  places  ;  and,  although  inserts  for 
0,  nearly  three   weeks,   we   were    fobbed   off '  with    very   bad   seats   in 

the  orchestra.  The  play  had  great  success,  and  that  of  Ristori 
was  prodigious,  but  not  greater  than  she  deserved.  The  part  is- 
most  arduous,  full  of  transitions,  and  almost  always  on  the  full 
stretch.  Her  costume  was  most  picturesque,  having  been  designed 
by  Schaeffer,  and  she  looked  like  a  figure  on  an  Etruscan  vase  ; 
and  in  no  play  that  I  have  yet  seen  her  in  does  she  produce 
more  effect  than  in  certain  passages  of  "  Medea."  The  audience 
was  wound  up  to  a  pitch  of  frantic  enthusiasm.  I  am  always, 
astonished  at  the  effect  she  produces  on  the  mass  of  the  audience,, 
when  I  know  how  few  there  are  who  really  can  follow  the  play.. 
But,  whether  by  means  of  her  countenance,  voice,  or  gestures, 
she  contrives  to  make  all  the  nuances  of  her  acting  felt  by  the 
pubHc.  I  expect  when  she  comes  to  London  she  will  find  a 
vast  difference  between  this  excitable  and  sympathetic  audience 
\^  and  that  stupid,  flat  collection  of  would-be  fashionables  who  will 
promener  leurs  ennuis  at  her  performances. 

Before  his  family  had  arrived  in  Paris  the  subject  of  the 
Orpheus  entitled  "  The  Triumph  of  Music,"  to  which 
Leighton  was  devoting  himself,  was  criticised  by  his  father, 
which  criticism  Leighton  answered  in  the  following  letter : — 

I  do  not  think  honestly  that  the  choice  of  a  mythological 
subject  like  Orpheus  shows  the  least  poverty  of  invention,  a 
quality,  I  take  it,  much  more  manifested  in  the  manner  o£ 
treatment  than  in  the  choice  of  a  moment. 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  245 

About  fiddles,  I  know  that  the  ancients  had  none ;  it  is  an 
anachronism  which  I  commit  with  my  eyes  open,  because  I  beheve 
that  the  picture  will  go  home  to  the  spectator  much  more 
forcibly  in  that  shape. 

To  his  mother  he  writes : — 

Rue  Pigalle. 

I  have  seen  Scheffer,^  who  is  cordiality  itself  to  me ;  Robert  \^ 
Fleury,  ditto,  and  1  have  further  made  the  acquaintance  of  Ingres, 
who,  though  sometimes  bearish  beyond  measure,  was  by  a  piece 
of  luck  exceedingly  courteous  the  day  I  was  presented  to  him. 
He  has  just  finished  a  beautiful  figure  of  Nymph,  which  I  was 
able  to  admire  loudly  and  sincerely.  I  have  also  been  to  Troyon, 
who  was  polite. 

I   am    fiddling    away    at    the    preliminaries    of    my   pictures,   a       ',- 
disjointed  and   desultory  period   through    which   one  has  to  wade 
to  get  at  one's  large  canvas. 

The  Sartoris  are  of  course,  as  ever,  my  stronghold  and  comfort. 

Your  loving  boy,  Fred. 

I  have  sent  the  sketch  of  my  "  Orpheus  "  to  Ruskin,  and  don't 
yet  know  his  opinion  of  that  particular  thing,  but  I  feel  about 
that,  that  as  a  now  responsible  artist,  it  is  my  du(y  to  do  things 
exactly  as  I  feel  them  and  to  abide  by  them,  risking  criticisms 
and  cavillings  *  of  every  kind.  I  must  be  myself  for  better  and  ^  \r^^ 
for    worse  ;     this    truth,    which    I    feel    strongly    myself,    has    been  "* 

corroborated  by  the  opinions  of  Fanny  Kemble,  Mr.  Sartoris 
and  Mrs.  Sartoris,  all  at  different  times,  and  quite  spontaneously 
expressed.     In  haste. — Your  dutiful  and  affectionate  son, 

Fred  Leighton. 

The  question  naturally  arises,  considering  the  sequence 
of  the  history  of  the  Orpheus  picture,  was  Leighton  himself 
when  he  painted  "  The  Triumph  of  Music  "  ?     I  have  studied 

^  The  story  is  that  on  Leighton's  expressing  his  gratitude  at  receiving  a  visit 
from  him  (Ary  Scheffer),  he  repHed,  "  If  I  did  not  attach  considerable  im- 
portance to  your  talent,  I  should  not  have  mounted  three  flights  of  stairs  to 
see  you." 


246  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

his  work  from  the  commencement  to  the  close  of  his  artistic 
career,  and  this  picture  remains  the  unique  example,  in  my 
opinion,  when  he  was  not  himself;  the  only  picture  which 
does  not  carry  out  the  principle  he  thought  of  all  impor- 
tance. It  does  not  evince  "  sincerity  of  emotion."  The 
feeling  and  intention  of  the  work  when  first  conceived  had 
been  absolutely  sincere  ;  but,  when  it  came  to  the  performance, 
spontaneity  had  failed.  It  seems  to  have  been  painted  when 
he  was  overshadowed  by  an  influence  which  was  alien  to  his 
real  artistic  sense,  and  is  a  further  proof  that  Paris  was  an 
entirely    unsympathetic    atmosphere    to    him.       The    picture 

^-       appears   to    me    to   be  in   feeling  unreal,   stagey — not   to   say,'^ 
ridiculous.       That   Leighton,  after   the    first   bitterness  of   his 
failure  was  over,  shared  somewhat  the  same  view  of  it  is  cer- 

V't;     tain;    for  shortly  after  the  Academy  Exhibition   of  1856  was 

over  he  took  it  off  the  stretcher,  rolled  it  up,  and  consigned  it 

to  oblivion  during  his  lifetime  in  the  dark  recess  of  a  cellar. 

Notes  in    Mr.    Henry  Greville's   Diary,  dated   April    24th 

and  Tuesday,   May  6th,  run  as  follows  : — 

London,  April  24. 

Went  yesterday  to  Colnaghi's  to  see  Leighton's  picture  of 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  with  which  I  was  much  pleased.  Colnaghi 
tells  me  it  is  much  admired,  and  said,  "  Young  Leighton  will, 
one  day,  be  a  very  great  man." 

Tuesday,  May  6. 

A  letter  h^om  Leighton,  in  answer  to  mine  preparing  him  for 
the  failure  of  his  picture  in  the  Exhibition,  says  :  "  Whatever  I 
may  have  felt  about  my  little  bankruptcy,  there  is  no  fear  of  its 
disabling  me  for  work,  for  if  I  am  impressionable  I  am  also 
obstinate ;  and,  with  God's  will,  I  will  one  day  stride  over  the 
necks  of  the  penny-a-liners,  that  they  may  not  have  the  triumph 
of  having  bawled  me  down  before  I  have  had  time  to  be  heard." 

In  April  Leighton's  family  left  Paris  to  travel  in  Switzer- 
land. The  following  letters  to  his  mother  show  the  spirit  in 
which   Leighton  met  his  artistic  disaster. 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  247 

May  7. 

Dearest  Mamma, — I  received  your  two  kind  letters  in  due 
time,  and  answer  them  on  the  second  day  you  fixed,  having  in 
the  interval  had  time  to  hear  about  the  fate  of  my  picture  ;  but 
first  let  me  say,  dear  mamma,  that  you  need  never  fear  my  mis- 
interpreting or  taking  awry  any  kind  advice  that  your  love  and 
solicitude  may  dictate  to  you.  I  am  reading  as  much  as  ever  my 
eyes  will  allow — indeed,  you  are  strangely  mistaken  in  thinking  I 
don't  see  the  necessity  of  reading.  I  assure  you  that  it  is  a 
perpetual  mortification  to  me  to  feel  how  little  I  know,  but  I 
stand  unfortunately  at  such  a  disadvantage  owing  to  the  weakness 
of  my  eyes  and  my  unprecedented  absence  of  mind  ;  however,  I 
shall  do  what   I   can,  and  hope  for  the  best. 

Dearest  Mamma,  I  did  not  expect  to  write  a  consolatory  note 
to  you  to  inaugurate  your  journey,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
I  am  in  that  painful  position.  My  picture,  which  has  been 
exceedingly  badly  hung,  so  that  one  can  scarcely  see  half  of  it 
(indeed  I  believe  only  the  figure  of  Orpheus),  is  an  entire  failure ; 
the  papers  have  abused,  the  public  does  not  care  for  it,  in  fact 
it  is  a  "  fiasco."  Ruskin  (who  likes  the  "  Romeo "  very  much)  is 
disappointed  with  "  Orpheus,"  tho'  he  says  of  course  a  man  Hke  me 
can't  do  anything  that  has  not  great  merits,  and  that  I^am  to 
attach  no  importance  to  the  malicious  articles  written  by  venal 
critics.  Now,  dearest  Mother,  look  upon  this — you  and  Papa,  who 
takes  so  affectionate  an  interest  in  my  welfare — look  upon  this,  as 
I  do,  as  a  fortunate  occurrence ;  consider  what  an  edge  and  a 
zest  I  get  for  my  future  efforts,  and  what  an  incentive  I  have 
to  exert  myself  to  put  down  the  venomous  jargon  of  envious 
people  —  next  year,  tho'  the  Academicians  may  think  that  they 
have  cowed  me,  I  shall  very  probably  not  exhibit  ;  but  the  year 
after,  God  willing,  they  shall  feel  the  weight  of  my  hand  in  a 
way  that  will  surprise  them.  The  more  they  abuse,  the  better 
I'll  paint — industry  against  spite — I  will  have  a  pull  for  it.  Dear 
Henry  Greville  behaves  to  me  like  an  angel  ;  he  writes  every  day, 
and  sends  me  the  Times  regularly.  Mrs.  Sartoris,  too,  writes 
very  often.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  my  prospects  about 
models  are  rather  brighter  than  they  were  ;  I  have  found  two 
or  three  that  will  be  useful. 


248  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Paris,  Sunday. 
Although  my  letter  (and  I  am  afraid  a  very  unpleasant  one) 
must  have  reached  you  as  soon  as  the  other  was  fairly  out  of 
the  house,  yet  I  write  a  line  in  answer  to  all  the  kind  and  con- 
siderate things  you  wrote  in  the  idea  I  might  be  ill  or  irritable. 
I  value  your  kind  solicitude,  dear  Mamma,  as  much  as  you 
can  wish,  I  assure  you,  and  should  indeed  be  heartily  sorry  in 
any  way  to  give  you  pain  or  make  you  in  any  way  unhappy 
— and  talking  of  that,  dear  Mamma,  I  sincerely  hope  you  have 
completely  got  over  your  first  annoyance  about  my  fiasco,  which, 
except  of  course  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  is  in  point  of  fact 
a  fortunate  event  for  my  future  progress,  in  the  elan  it  gives  to 
my  application  and  particularly  to  my  obstinacy.  I  am  very  busy 
now  at  "  Pan "  and  "  Venus,"  but  have  not  decided  what  I  shall 
do  next  year.  I  think  it  is  very  characteristic  of  the  critics  that 
they  none  of  them  mention  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  which  is,  I  know, 
p-  universally  liked.  Dear  Mamma,  never  fear,  your  boy  will  walk 
over  all  that — depend  upon  it.  How  does  Papa  take  it  ?  How 
the  girls  ? — Give  to  all  my  best  love,  and  believe  me,  your  very 
devoted  son,  Fred. 

Tuesday,  1856. 

Dear  Papa, — In  the  hope  that  I  should  receive  to-day  Rus- 
kin's  pamphlet  on  the  Institution,  I  delayed  until  now  answering 
ycur  kind  letter.  It  has,  however,  not  arrived,  and  as  there  is 
great  uncertainty  whether  it  really  is  already  published  or  no,  I 
think  it  better  not  to  keep  you  longer  without  news  from  me. 
The  criticisms  in  the  papers  are,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  partly 
from  the  little  I  have  read  and  partly  from  what  my  friends  tell 
me,  singularly  injudicious,  leaving  almost  entirely  untouched  the 
really  vulnerable  parts  of  the  picture,  and  attacking  almost  ex- 
clusively that   which  is  least  objectionable — the  execution. 

Ruskin  does  not  much  like  the  picture,  and  prefers  the 
"  Romeo "  considerably,  but  he  will  write  of  course  in  a  serious 
spirit  and  like  an  intelligent  man.  I  have  just  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Robert  Fleury — the  best  French  colourist,  in  my  opinion — 
and  he  received  me  with  the  greatest  kindness  and  simplicity, 
showing  all   that  he   had,  and  explaining    anything    that   I   wished 


WATTS— SUCCESS— FAILURE  249 

to  know  ;  this  is  a  valuable  acquaintance  which  I  owe  to  Mont- 
fort.  1  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  highly  talented  young 
German  genre  painter  of  whom  I  had  heard  in  Frankfurt  ;  he  is 
my  age,  and  paints  with  greater  facility,  but  my  talent  is  of  a 
higher  order  I  think.  Ary  Scheffer  has  been  very  amiable  and 
pleasant  to  me  about  my  fiasco,  telling  me  what  he  went  through 
himself,  and  telling  me  to  think  nothing  of  it.  I  sent  to  Wild 
shortly  after  you  left,  and  was  able  to  render  him  a  little  service 
in  the  way  of  some  Venetian  costumes,  still  I  hesitate  to  ask 
him  to  introduce  me  to  Paul  Delaroche.  We  shall  see  about 
all  that  next  autumn  when  I  come  back  from  Italy,  when  the 
Viardots  will  also  introduce  me  to   Delacroix. 

Pan  and  Venus  are  progressing  toid  doucement. 

I  have  written  to  Watts  to  ask  his  leave  to  put  my  pictures 
in  his  studio  (Pan  and  Venus)  in  Little  Holland  House.  I  read 
carefully  all  you  said,  dear  Mamma,  about  the  critics,  &c.  &c.  I 
honestly  think  that  my  ill-luck  is  in  no  way  attributable  to  over-  V 
hurrying.  Those  things  in  my  picture  which  were  really  most 
open  to  discussion,  I  did  all  with  my  eyes  open  and  deliberately, 
and  they  were  the  only  ones  that  the  discerning  scribblers  seem 
not  to  have  noticed.  Again,  with  regard  to  the  said  critics,  I 
think,  dear  Mamma,  you  see  things  "  en  noir,"     Who  reports  me  to 

have   sneered   at   ?    .  I   did   internally,   as   I    do   at  all   snobs. 

However,  I  have  long  since  banished  the  whole  subject.  If  ever 
I  attain  real  excellence,  the  public  will  in  the  long  run  find  it  out; 
and  if  they  don't  pay  me  they  will  at  least  acknowledge  me, 
especially  when  the  pre-Raphaelite  "engouement  "ihas  calmed  a  P- 
little.  In  a  fortnight  I  shall  go  to  England  ;  by  that  time  Pan 
and  Venus  will  be  done,  and  I  think  they  promise  well,  I  am 
very  anxious  to  get  to  London,  I  mean  to  enjoy  it  very  much 
— take  my  fill,  and  then  go  for  a  short  time  to  Italy  to  renew  my 
profession  of  faith  before  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  I  am 
very  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  enjoying  yourselves,  and  that  you 
remember  me  in  the  midst  of  your  jonquils  and  anemones. 


q 
9 


CHAPTER    V 

FRIENDS 

Leigiiton's  friendships  were  very  salient,  vivid  interests  to 
him  among  the  varied  occupations  of  his  life.  In  any  com- 
plete picture  of  his  personality  these  must  take  a  prominence 
only  secondary  to  his  passion  for  Art  and  Beauty, — and  for 
"his  second  home," — the  land  that  had  cast  such  a  strange 
spell  and  charm  over  him  from  the  early  days  of  childhood, 
— to  his  love  for  his  family,  and  his  reverent  devotion  to 
his  master,  Steinle,  and  to  Mrs.  Sartoris.  To  these  two 
inspiring  friends  and  teachers  he  declared  he  owed  what  he 
prized  most  in  life,  namely,  a  development  of  those  gifts  and 
qualities  which  enabled  him  to  be  of  service  to  his  generation. 

"  I  have  always  believed  that  his  ruling  passion  was 
Duty — the  keenest  possible  sense  of  it,"  Mr.  Briton  Riviere 
writes.  The  influences  which  were  the  most  precious  to 
Leighton  were  assuredly  those  which  enabled  him  to  extend 
his  own  influence  in  the  highest  and  widest  direction,  and 
fulfil  exhaustively  his  duty  to  his  fellow-creatures.  Every 
moment  of  his  life  was  real  and  earnest  to  him.  Every 
moment  had  a  purpose — ever  before  him  was  the  urgent 
imperative  necessity  he  felt  of  being  faithful:  faithful  in 
every  detail  as  in  decisive  final  aims.  If  an  epithet  had  to 
be  attached  to  his  name,  epitomising  Leighton's  salient  char- 
acteristics, the  most  appropriate  would  surely  be  "  Leighton 
the  faithful." 

Many  among  those  who  are  dead, — also  among  the   now 

living,  found  in  him  their  best  friend.     The  letters  written  to 

230 


STUDY  OF  HEAD  FOR  "LIEDER  OHNE    WORTE/'     i860 

Leighton  House  Collection 


FRIENDS  251 

him  by  Mr.  Henry  Greville,  and  those  that  Leighton  wrote 
to  Mr.  Hanson  Walker  are  good  examples,  among  the  many 
that  have  been  preserved,  showing  the  very  prominent  place 
his  friends  took  in  Leiorh ton's  life.  In  the  first  we  trace  the 
tender  affection  he  inspired  in  the  hearts  of  his  intimates,^  and 
in  the  second  the  ardent  manner  in  which  Leighton  would  help 
artists  younger  than  himself,  and  how  with  a  parental  solicitude 
he  would  do  his  best  to  forward  their  true  interests.^ 

The  following  letters  from  Mr.  Henry  Greville  were 
written  on  Leighton's  return  to  Paris,  after  he  had  run 
over  to  London  to  place  the  "  Romeo "  picture  which  had 
been  in  the  Paris  International  Exhibition  with  Colnaghi,  and 

1  Owing  to  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Gieville's  niece  and  executor,  Alice,  Countess 
of  Strafford,  I  am  able  to  quote  extracts  from  his  letters  to  Leighton  in  this  "  Life." 
Unfortunately  the  letters  from  Leighton  to  Mr.  Greville  cannot  be  found,  though, 
as  we  know,  many  were  written.  During  his  first  visit  to  Algiers  in  1857,  Leighton 
wrote  to  his  mother :  "  The  fact  is  that  as  besides  corresponding  with  you  I  write 
often  to  Mrs.  Sartoris,  and  still  oftener  to  Henry  Greville,  and  having  continually 
much  the  same  to  tell  all  of  you,  I  often  cannot  remember  to  whom  I  have 
written  what." 

2  It  was  when  visiting  his  family  at  Bath  that  he  first  saw  Hanson  Walker, 
the  "Johnny"  of  the  letters  and  of  the  pictures.  Leighton  was  much  taken  with 
the  picturesque  beauty  of  the  boy's  head,  and  made  various  studies  from  it.  A 
pencil  study  he  made  from  his  head  (see  List  of  Illustrations)  he  used  as  a  study 
for  his  picture  "  Lieder  ohne  Worte."  Having  discovered  that  his  sitter  had  a 
natural  taste  for  drawing,  Leighton  advised  "Johnny's"  father  to  let  him  become 
an  artist.  This  led  to  the  boy  being  sent  to  learn  drawing  at  the  School  of  Art 
in  Bath.  When  Leighton  returned  to  London  after  it  had  been  decided  that 
"  Johnny  "  was  to  study  drawing,  the  young  student  received  one  day  to  his  surprise 
a  large  case.  On  opening  it  he  found  to  his  delight  a  cast  from  the  antique,  a 
drawing-board,  paper,  charcoal,  chalks,  in  fact,  all  the  utensils  wanted  by  a  beginner 
wishing  to  work  seriously  at  Art.  Never  to  the  end  of  his  life  did  Leighton's 
interest  in  his  pupil  flag.  Never  was  he  too  busy  to  do  a  kindness  to  him  or 
his.  Perhaps  the  early  and  somewhat  romantic  marriage  which  "Johnny"  made 
with  a  lady  for  whom  Leighton  felt  from  the  earliest  days  of  the  wedded  life  a 
very  sincere  regard,  and  the  charming  children  who  soon  made  a  pretty  cluster 
round  their  parents,  and  were  always  a  delight  to  Leighton,  cemented  the 
friendly  interest.  The  head  of  "Nan"  (Mrs.  Hanson  Walker— see  List  of 
Illustrations),  painted  as  a  wedding  present  to  "Johnny,"  is  one  among  the 
happiest  of  Leighton's  portraits.  It  is  broad  in  treatment,  and  fair  and  very  pure 
in  colour,  and  as  a  likeness  was  considered  perfect. 


2  52  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

after    "The    Triumph    of   Music"    had    been    sent    in   to   the 

Academy. 

London,  April  25. 
Dear  Fay, — You  are  rather  a  bad  boy  not  to  have  given  either 
Ad,  or  me  a  signe  de  vie,  but  as  I  have  not  seen  her  to-day,  she 
may  have  heard  from  you.  We  both  want  to  do  so  very  much, 
so  pray  write  ME  a  line  directly.  I  only  do  so  to-day  to  say 
that  at  my  suggestion  Ad.  and  I  rushed  off  yesterday  again  to 
Colnaghi  to  find  out  if  the  Queen  or  Albert  knew  of  your  picture 
being  at  his  shop  ;  and  if  not,  to  ask  him  to  let  them  know  it, 
if  he  could  do  so  with  propriety.  He  said  he  would  at  once 
send  the  picture  to  B,  Palace,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing 
other  works  ;  though  he  did  not  think  that  it  was  likely  they  would 
buy  another  picture  of  yours,  he  admitted  that  it  might  be  advan- 
tageous to  you  that  they  should  see  it.  He  again  praised  the 
picture  greatly,  and  told  us  that  it  was  universally  admired.  My 
sister  prefers  it  infinitely  to  "  Cimabue  "  in  all  respects,  but  the  fact 
is,  the  subject  is  more  attractive  to  English  people  than  the  other. 
I  have  nothing  else  to  tell  you.  I  am  very  seedy  with  an  affection 
of  the  bronchial  tubes,  and  very  low,  and  would  give  anything 
to  see  you,  my  dear  boy,  but  must  have  patience  till  the  pleasant 
moment  of  having  you  under  my  roof  arrives.  You  will  be  glad 
to  hear  that  my  mother  is  better.  I  have  not  seen  Ellesmere, 
as  he  was  at  the  Review,  but  3^ou  may  depend  on  my  not  for- 
getting your  interests.  The  said  Review  was  a  most  glorious 
spectacle,  and  they  had  a  splendid  day  for  it.  I  am  starved  to 
death  here,  and  Ad.  and  I  do  nothing  but  grumble.  She  and 
I  dined  tcte-a-tcte  last  night,  and  slept  and  coughed  through  the 
evening  with  the  occasional  intermission  of  talking  of  you — you 
old  Fay  !  To-night  I  am  going  with  her  to  Eli,  though  I  ought 
to  be  in  my  bed.  Theo  is  ill  and  can't  come,  and  Fanny  reads. 
Oh  !  that  you  were  to  be  with  us  !  Tell  me  if  you  would  object 
to  a  VERY  slight  gold  frame  to  the  drawings — merely  a  lincy 
because,  as  my  rooms  are  all  white,  and  that  ever57thing  in  them 
has  gilt,  the  drawings  want  a  sort  of  background — which  this 
slight  frame  would  give  them.  Tell  me  what  you  think.  I  don't 
mean  to  hang  up  my  Vintage,  but  keep  it  near  me  on  an  easle 
(how   do   you   spell   it  ?).      Charley,   being   highly   coloured,    looks 


FRIENDS  253 

lovely,  and  don't  want  any  frame — nasty  Charley !  Now  pray 
write  and  tell  me  all  about  yourself — and  the  nioddles — and  how 
you  a7'e — and  how  you  get  on — and  what  you  do.  Don't  drag 
off  to  dull  parties,  but  go  to  bed  early. 

God  bless  you.  Amami,  ne  ho  gran  bisogno.  Colnaghi  said 
he  had  heard  from  one  Cooper  a  very  good  report  of  "  Orpheus." 

H. 

How  have  the  photographs  turned  out  ?  I  like  your  portrait 
less  now  that  you  are  away — but  it  can't  be  helped,  it  is  better 
than  none,  but  it  looks  so  sad.  I  have  hung  you  and  Ad.  up 
side  by  side  in  sweet  companionship  in  my  dressing-room,  so  that 
I  may  see  you  both  the  first  thing  on  waking. 

London,  April  26th. 
Dearest  Bimbo, — You  have  made  us  pass  some  very  anxious 
hours,  as  the  telegraph  which  I  sent  off  at  seven  this  morning 
will  have  testified,  though  it  will  also  have  surprised  and  per- 
haps alarmed  you  until  you  read  its  contents.  The  fact  is,  / 
thought  it  odd  that  we  did  not  hear  from  you,  yesterday  at  all 
events,  as  I  felt  sure  you  would  have  written  immediately  on 
getting  our  joint  note  from  Boulogne,  Wednesday,  and  certainly 
on  the  following  day.  However,  I  felt  sanguine  that  on  going 
to  dine  at  79,  I  should  find  that  Ad.  had  heard  from  you,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  I  found  her  full  of  anxiety  at  no  letter, 
imagining  every  species  of  cause  for  your  silence,  which  she 
said  was  so  very  unlike  you,  that  I  directly  caught  the  same 
state  of  worry,  and  we  determined  that  I  should  telegraph  the 
first  thing  this  morning  to  know  if  you  were  ill,  or  if  anything 
had  happened.  I  never  slept  all  night,  and  of  course  had  worked 
myself,  with  her  assistance,  into  a  wretched  state  of  anxiety  about 
you — when  at  nine  your  letter  arrived,  and  a  blessed  relief  it 
was.  I  should  not  probably  have  been  in  such  a  state,  had 
Adelaide  not  been  convinced  that  illness  or  some  catastrophe 
had  prevented  your  writing,  because,  she  said,  your  wont  was  to 
do  so  immediately  on  parting  with  her,  and  she  could  account 
for  it  in  no  other  way.  In  short,  dear  Fay,  we  were  very 
foolish  ;  but  I  assure  you  our  folly  met  its  own  punishment  by 
the  anxiety,  and   which  spoilt  our  *'  Eli "  entirely.       Poor  Fay  !   I 


254  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD   LEIGHTON 

daresay  you  little  thought  that  we  were  tormenting  ourselves 
about  you,  and  I,  for  one,  shall  try  and  not  do  so  any  more. 
Your  letter  is  like  yourself — dear  and  kind.  With  regard  to  the 
enclosure,  my  opinion  is  that  you  would  not  do  wisely  or  hand- 
somely by  Colnaghi  to  withdraw  your  picture  from  his  keeping, 
unless  he  wished  to  get  rid  of  it  to  make  room  for  the  supposed 
exhibition  of  drawings  ;  moreover,  my  own  opinion  is  that  you 
would  not  do  well  to  exhibit  at  the  Crystal  Palace.  I  have  no 
faith  in  that  institution,  and  I  think  it  will  be  a  pity  to  rob  your 
studio  of  the  "  Pan  "  and  "  Venus  "  for  that  purpose  ;  but  as  I  do 
not  consider  myself  a  good  judge  of  these  matters  or  competent 
to  advise  you,  I  think  I  should  be  very  much  guided  by  what 
other  artists  of  the  same  standing  as  yourself  think  and  do  in 
the  matter,  and  before  deciding  or  answering  Mr.  Magwood,  I 
should  write  to  Buckner  or  any  one  else  competent  to  advise  you 
and  ask  their  opinion.  I  don't  know  what  Sister  Adelaide  will 
say,  but  I  have  sent  her  your  letter  and  the  enclosure,  and  she 
will  probably  write  to  you  on  the  subject.  You  are  too  dear 
and  nice  about  my  mother.  I  fear  that  before  you  come  she 
will  have  left  London,  and  I  don't  think  you  would  like  to 
paint  her,  because  her  sweet  face  is  entirely  hidden  by  the 
shade  she  is  obliged  to  wear  over  her  poor  eyes  ;  but  yon  know 
whether  I  should  like  her  portrait  painted  by  you  !  But,  dear 
Fay,  you  are  too  lavish  of  your  time  on  others,  and  do  not 
think  enough  of  yourself.  Here  I  was  interrupted  by  a  visit 
from  Adelaide,  overjoyed  at  hearing  all  is  well  with  you,  and 
agreeing  entirely  with  me  in  re  C.  Palace,  Colnaghi,  &c.  She 
says  if  C.  wishes  the  picture  to  be  removed,  it  is  for  him  to  ex- 
press that  wish  and  not  you,  that  a  better  order  of  people  go 
to  him  than  those  who  frequent  the  C.  P.,  that  he  is  well- 
disposed  towards  you,  and  that  it  is  advisable  you  should  keep 
him  as  your  friend. 

We  think  Mogford's  reference  useless,  being  a  foreigner,  and 
we  are  certain  that  unless  Millais  and  others  of  the  same  class 
exhibit  at  the  C.  P.,  you  had  best  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
I  took  Ad.  up  to  your  room,  and  she  says  you  will  be  cotnfy  in 
it ;  and  she  saw  your  nice  face,  patted  it,  and  said,  "  Dear  Fay, 
but  it   looks   so   sad ! "      She   thinks   both   drawings  will   be   better 


FRIENDS  255 

for  a  slight  gilt  n;;;,  but  I  won't  put  it  on  without  your  leave. 
I  am  so  glad  you  are  leading  a  wholesome  life,  and  getting  the 
b.  who  planted  you,  rather  than  dawdle  proudly,  and  be  without 
a  good  moddle.  I  have  nothing  to  say,  dear  Bimbo,  and  you 
will  have  had  enough  of  me.  I  am  very  bad  with  an  ulcerated 
throat,  cough,  and  inflamed  bronchia,  and  altogether  below  par. 
I  have  seen  hardly  anybody  since  I  came.  Adelaide  would  have 
been  pleased  with  "  Eli,"  had  she  been  in  a  vein  where  pleasure 
was  possible.  Pauline  sang  to  perfection  the  lovely  music  allotted 
to  her.  And  now,  dearest  Bimbo,  God  bless  you.  Write  very 
often,  if  only  a  line^  as  it  is  comfortable  to  hear  that  all  is  well 
with  you — that  is  always  the  news  I  most  wish  to  get  ;  and  tell 
me  how  the  pictures  progress,  and  your  real  state  of  mind  about 
them. — Your  old  and  loving   Babbo,  H. 

I  send  back  Mogford.  Penelope  B.  (Bentinck)  tells  me  that 
the  great  judge,  George,  condescends  to  approve  "  Romeo  " 
mightily  !  ! 

London,  Monday,  April  28/A. 

Dear  good  Fay, — Cartwright  was  wrong  about  the  telegraph, 
but  as  our  anxiety  was  removed  by  your  letter,  I  did  not  expect 
you  to  send  me  one.  Knowing  how  likely  you  were  to  write, 
supposing  you  to  be  well,  you  may  imagine  that  we  were  not  a 
little  anxious  at  getting  no  sign  of  life  from  you,  in  return  for  our 
daily  letters,  and  I  never  could  have  guessed  that  the  Boulogne 
letter  would  only  have  reached  you  on  Saturday  !  However,  all 
is  well  that  ends  well,  but  we  passed  a  very  disagreeable  day  and 
night,  and  it  was  because  we  did  not  think  you  capable  of  putting 
off  writing  that  we  fussed  and  worried  ourselves  about  you — 
foolishly,  dear  Fay,  no  doubt.  I  am  very  seedy  and  confined  to 
the  house  by  throat,  bronchia,  unceasing  cough,  swelled  glands,  bad 
eyes — and  should  not  inflict  myself  and  ailments  upon  you,  but  that 
it  is  a  solace  and  a  comfort  to  causer  avec  "  mon  petit  dernier  " — a  cog- 
nomen which  smiles  UPON  me — and  made  me  smile.  Sister  Adelaide 
tea'd  with  me  last  night  en  tete  a  tete.  Fanny  was  grand,  and 
would  not  come  in,  though  she  dropped  her  sister  at  my  door, 
because  (she  said)  I  had  not  said  to  her  that  I  wished  for  her  ! 
I  was  so  little  en  train  that  I   was  not  sorry  to  have  only  Adelaide, 


256  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

and  we  did  more  than  once  say  how  we  wished  Fay  was  eating 
the  muffin  destined  for  the  proud  Fanny.  Adelaide  has  just  been 
here,  and  brought  me  your  dear  letter.  I  don't  see  any  present 
prospect  of  the  fire  of  my  affliction  being  extinguished  or  allowed 
to  grow  dim,  so  you  may  make  your  mind  easy  on  that  score, 
excellent  Fay.  I  feel  for  your  loneliness,  and  know  what  a  con- 
trast it  must  present  with  the  sweet  fellowship  we  have  held 
together  so  unceasingly  for  those  last  two  months.  The  only 
thing  you  gain  by  the  loss  of  your  people  is  more  time,  and  a 
later  repast.  I  don't  doubt  poor  Mamma  being  unhappy  at  leaving 
you,  her  true  and  only  Benjamin,  and  for  an  indefinite  time.  I 
can  judge  by  what  I  felt  at  parting  with  mon  petit  dernier y  and  with 
the  hope  of  so  soon  greeting  him  again.  No,  Fay,  I  won't  have 
the  Charley  drawing,  and  I  won't  have  you  do  anything  more  for 
any  one  but  yourself,  knowing  as  I  do  all  the  things  you  have  on 
hand — and  a  propos  of  that,  I  must  tell  you  that  I  have  endeavoured 
to  put  another  iron  in  the  fire  in  re  fresco.  I  asked  Lady  Abercorn, 
who  is  my  dearest  friend,  to  speak  to  Lord  Aberdeen  (her  father- 
in-law)  who  is  on  the  Committee  of  Taste,  or  whatever  it  is  called, 
first  about  your  picture  at  Colnaghi's  and  then  of  you  generally 
as  desirous  of  painting  in  fresco,  and  as  of  one  whose  studies  have 
been  that  way  directed,  in  whom  I  take  a  great  interest  ;  but  I 
made  her  understand  that  it  was  no  job  I  wanted  done,  or  that 
I  asked  any  favour,  but  merely  I  wished  it  to  be  known  that 
Leighton,  a  very  rising  artist,  would  like  to  be  employed  in  that 
line,  if  an  occasion  presented  itself.  Lady  A.  understood  me  exactly 
and  being  very  sympathetic  immediately  conceived  an  interest  for 
my  petit  dernier  (I  wish  you  were  my  son,  Fay  !)  and  said  if  she  did 
not  see  Lord  Aberdeen  very  soon  she  would  write  to  him.  Neither 
I  nor  Adelaide  know  where  Windsor  and  Newton  live,  so  you  had 
best  write  straight  to  him  to  send  the  colours  you  want.  I  think 
I  must  put  just  a  baguette  d!or  on  the  drawings,  and  when  you  see 
them  on  my  walls  I  don't  think  you  will  disapprove.  With  regard 
to  Cartwright,  Adelaide  says  Jules  Sartoris  has  got  a  place  called 
Tusmore.  I  should  advise  him  to  lose  no  time  in  advertising  it 
both  in  the  newspaper  and  by  different  agents  in  town  and  country. 
I  should  think  it  was  a  place  sure  to  be  let,  from  its  convenient 
distance  from  London  and  other  advantages.    There  is  no  news  here. 


FRIENDS  257 

London,  May  6th. 
Dearest   Fay, — Your    letter  is  a  relief  and   a  comfort.      It   is 
both  to  me  to  see  you  take  this  disagreeable  business  so  manfully, 
so    wisely,    and    to    think    that    instead    of    being    cast    down,   your 
energies  will  only  be  aroused  by  this  stupid  and  unjust  criticism. 
In  this  case    it   may,  then,  well    be  said,   "Sweet   are  the  uses  of 
adversity."      As    to   all    the   other    papers,    I    can't    pretend    to    say 
what   they  may  have  written,  but   the  Leader  is   one  of   no  repute, 
and,   as    Ruskin    said    to   Adelaide   this    morning,    it   don't    really 
signify  what  they  write  ;    in  the   long  run  talent   and   genius  must 
prevail,  as  yours  will,  dear  Fay,   if    it    please    God   to  grant   you, 
as    I   fervently  pray,  health   and   strength.      She    is   going   to   write 
to    you,    and    will    tell    you    all    Ruskin    said,    and    also    what    she 
thinks  of  the  Exhibition  in  general  and  your  picture  in  particular, 
which,   I    hear,  is   infamously    placed — that    is,  in   so    bad    a    light 
that  only  Orpheus  is  visible.      Passing,  I  must  tell  you  that  Edward 
(Sartoris)  came   to  see  me  yesterday,  and  the  first  thing  he  said  on 
entering   the   room   was,    "Well,   I    don't  think  Leighton's  picture 
looks    bad.      Orpheus's    drapery  is  too   yellow,   but    it    don't    look 
amiss    at   all."      This  was   rather   much    for    him,    eh  ?      He    likes 
"Autumn   Leaves,"   and  he  praised  the   "Leslie"  (which   Adelaide 
says   is    all  very  well,  but   "slaty").     Landseer    is    beautiful — but 
E.    (Edward    Sartoris)  was   sous    le    charme,    having   sat    next    him 
at  dinner  at   Marochetti's,  when   he  told  me   L.  was  as  much   aiix 
petits   soins    for    him   as   if   he   had   been    the   loveliest   of  females. 
I    am   so   glad   about   the   models,  and  if    I   don't   hear   from  you 
as  often   shall  know   why.       I   am  also  glad  you  dine  with    Cart- 
wright  and  Co.,  but  how  you  can  dandle  a  nasty,  doughy,    puffy, 
bread-and-butter    smelling    thing    called    a    baby  !     Pah  !     a    baby 
is    my   horror    and   aversion.      Never    do    it    again — not    even    by 
your   own.     I    could    not   have  dandled   even    my  Bimbo   without 

a  grimace.     Well  done  !   old  hideous ;  if  she  promise   not  to 

act  herself,  I'll  take  a  box  for  her  next  benefit.  She  is  the  ante 
damne'e  of  Macready,  so  that  her  verdict  surprises  me.  I  expect 
she  will  begin  imitating  her,  and  have  Medea  translated — horrible 
idea  !  Read  Ellesmere's  speech  ;  it  is  very  pretty,  and  the  whole 
debate  is  interesting,  but  Derby  and  Co.  don't  cut  a  good  figure 
at  all,  I  am  getting  better  now,  and  dined  with  my  parent 
VOL.  I.  R 


258  THE   LIFE    OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

yesterday,  but  can't  go  out  in  daytime  for  fear  of  eyes  and 
throat,  the  wind  is  so  cold.  Of  course  I  read  your  letter  to  Ad. 
(Adelaide  Sartoris).  (I  think  you  had  best  now  write  straight 
to  her,  because  as  I  am  soon  hoping  to  be  out,  and  have  no 
one  to  send  so  far,  your  letters  will  get  to  her  quicker  and 
more  surely  by  post.) 

You  must  be  very  careful,  and  take  time  to  weigh  well  and 
consider  the  subjects  of  your  future  pictures.  I  think  the  Mer- 
maid might  be  both  interesting  and  effective  well  carried  out, 
and  you  might  also  perhaps  paint  some  subject  from  some  one 
of  the  Italian  poets — Tasso,  Ariosto,  Boccaccio — for  your  own 
satisfaction.  God  bless  you  !  my  dear  boy.  I  am  longing  to 
see  you  again  already.  Tell  me  how  the  models  answer  and 
how  you  get  on.  Don't  call  Brackley  de.  They  are  removed  to 
the  Meurice.  If  you  don't  find  them,  write  to  her  and  offer  to 
go  with  her  (saying  at  my  suggestion)  to  the  Louvre. — Love 
your  old  Babbo,  H. 

Later  in  the  summer  Mr.  Greville  wrote  : — 

1856,  Hatchford,  Thursday. 
My  dear  Boy, — I  do  sympathise  with  your  disgust  at  the 
same  time  that  I  think  you  have  acted  very  legerement  about  your 
pictures,  and,  in  fact,  taken  no  trouble  or  heed  about  them.  You 
should  have  seen  to  it  all  yourself  before  you  left  London^  or  have 
given  directions  to  Watts,  to  which  he  would  have  attended, 
instead  of  leaving  him  in  total  ignorance  as  to  what  you  meant 
or  wished,  and  which  picture  or  if  both  were  to  go.  I  kept 
perpetually  telling  you  to  see  after  this  business  and  to  be  more 
exact  in  it,  but  you  see  now  the  consequence  of  not  attending 
to  things  more  carefully.  You  had  better  write  a  curt  letter  to 
Greene,  reminding  him  that  you  had  given  written  directions  (as 
you  say)  that  it  was  your  "  Pan  "  that  was  to  be  removed,  and  that 
you  made  no  mention  of  the  "  Venus "  (what  has  he  done  with 
her  ?),  and  again  asking  him  (since  he  had  not  replied  to  the 
query)  whether  he  had  got  the  "  Romeo."  I  shan't  be  in  London 
until  to-morrow  night  late,  and  as  you  are  to  be  there  on 
Monday  there  will  be  no  use  in  my  going  to  Greene,  but   I  can 


FRIENDS  259 

do  so  on  Saturday  if  you  wish  it.  I  have  had  an  answer  from 
Ellesmere's  secretary,  to  whom  I  wrote  to  go  and  see  if  your 
pictures  were  well  hung,  to  say  that  the  Exhibition  only  opens 
in  first  week  of  September,^  but  that  he  has  a  friend  who  is  an 
influential  member  of  the  hanging  committee,  and  that  he  will 
speak  to  him  in  favour  of  yours  being  put  into  a  good  light. 
I  heard  from  Adelaide  yesterday  that  she  will  be  in  town  on 
Monday  and  will  dine  us.  I  hoped  you  would  have  stayed  (and 
she  too)  all  Tuesday  and  gone  away  on  Wednesday  morning,  so 
that  we  might  have  spent  two  evenings  together,  and  I  am  dis- 
appointed. I  shall  go  to  Scotland  on  Wednesday,  and  am  sorry 
to    have   settled   to   do   so.     I   suppose   you    know   Alfred   Sartoris 

marries  Miss  Barrington — an  alliance  which  will  enchant  Aunt , 

as  the  young  lady  is  "The  Honourable,"  and  allied  to  several 
marquesses  and  earls. — Addio,  caro,  your  ever  affectionate        H. 

P.S. — Write  again  by  all  means  to  Greene  asking  whaf  has 
become  of  the  "  Venus,"  and  also  whether  the  "  Romeo  "  has  or  not 
been  sent  to  Manchester — whether  you  employ  him  or  not,  you 
have  a  right  to  know  what  he  has  done  with  your  property. 
Write  a  line  to  Queen  Street  to-morrow  to  say  at  what  time  you 
will  be  there  on   Monday  that   I   may  not  be  out  of  the  way. 

Rain  has  come,  but  it  is  still  deliciously  warm  and  fine  in 
the  intervals. 

Later  in  the  same  year  Mr.   Greville  wrote  : — 

London,  August  26,  1856. 
My  dearest  Fay, — I  have  just  got  your  letter  of  Saturday 
23rd  from  Frankfort,  and  as  you  state  therein  that  you  were  to 
leave  that  place  on  Monday,  and  that  the  letters  which  I  sent 
to  Malet  for  you  could  only  reach  him  on  that  morning,  it  is 
next  to  certain  that  they  will  not  have  reached  you.  I  requested 
him,  in  the  event  of  your  having  left  Frankfort,  or  in  his  failing 
to  find  you  out,  to  send  them  on  to  the  p.  restante  at  Venice,  and 
you  will  probably  find  them  there  together  with  this  letter,  but 
I  think  it  best  also  to   send  you  the  originals  for  fear  of  accident, 

^  Yearly  Exhibition  at  Manchester. 


26o  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

as  it  is  desirable  that  you  should  write  to  Mr.  Harrison  yourself.^ 
In  the  meanwhile,  I  have  told  him  that  when  I  knew  your 
address  I  would  apprize  him  of  it,  and  in  a  few  days  I  shall 
write  and  say  that  you  are  at  Venice  ;  but  I  don't  think  he 
will  write  to  you  any  more,  but  that  he  will  expect  to  know 
when  you  are  likely  to  return.  Having  got  so  far,  it  of  course  is 
out  of  the  question  that  you  should  think  of,  or  for  a  moment 
be  expected  to  return  on  purpose,  and  I  think  it  most  likely  you 
will  be  able  to  get  Watts  to  go  and  look  at  the  picture,  in  case 
the  matter  should  be  pressing  ;  but  I  think  it  will  be  best  that 
you  offer  to  return  to  England  before  you  settle  at  Paris,  and 
whenever  your  present  tour  (which  I  told  Mr,  Harrison  was  one 
for  artistic  purposes)  shall  be  ended.  It  will  be  a  great  bore 
having  to  come  back  even  then,  on  purpose.  I  am  sorry  you 
did  not  get  the  letters  at  Frankfort  ;  on  the  whole  though, 
perhaps  they  would  only  have  worried  you  and  have  made 
you  hesitate  as  to  returning,  and  which  perhaps  you  might  have 
thought  shorter  and  less  troublesome  than  having  to  come  back 
by-and-bye.  However,  it  is  very  probable  you  may  get  Watts 
to  do  what  is  necessary,  and  that  you  may  be  saved  the  ex- 
pense and  bore  of  another  journey  here  in  the  autumn.  Adelaide 
and  I  contemplated  the  possibility  of  your  coming  over  at  once 
from  Frankfort,  and  we  both  deprecated  the  idea,  though  we 
privately  said  how  intensely  glad  we  should  be  to  see  you — 
selfish  as  it  might  be  ;  and  it  was  arranged  that  I  was  to  telegraph 
to  her  to  Tunbridge  where  she  is  gone  to-day.  Thanks,  you 
dear  boy,  for  your  letter  just  received.  I  can  understand  your 
pleasure  at  finding  yourself  in  your  old  haunts  again,  with  your 
old  friend  and  master  to  whom  you  owe  so  much.  It  is  a  great 
comfort  to  me  to  find  that  he  likes  your  drawings,  though  I  never 
doubted  his  doing  so.  I  was  amused  by  your  account  of  the 
Pimp  and  Ballerina,  whose  modesty  seems  to  have  attracted  you 
more  than  that  of  the  Russian  Princess.  Since  writing  to  you 
last  I  have  done  but  little.  I  am  come  into  town  this  morning 
expecting   to    find    Ffrench,    but    he    has    not    turned    up.       I    saw 

^  This  correspondence  refers  to  the  "  Cimabue's  Madonna "  at  Buckingham 
Palace.  Small  holes  in  the  canvas  having  appeared,  the  authorities  were  anxious 
that  Leighton  should  inspect  the  picture,  and  take  steps  to  prevent  further  mischief. 


FRIENDS  261 

Sister    A.  ^    yesterday    on    her    way    through,    but    my    visit    was 

spoilt    by    the   Girls    and    Cigala,    who    (as    he    never    made 

love  to  me)  appears  to  me  merely  a  bon  sabreur  and  horse 
fancier.  You  know  my  opinion  of  the  young  ladies,  who,  par 
parenthese,  adore  you.  I  am  still  at  H.  (Holland)  House,  and  shall 
remain  there  until  Friday,  when  I  come  to  dine  with  Adelaide,  and 
sharll  then  go  to  Hatchford  until  I  repair  to  Worsley — my  sister  will 
be  established  there  before  long.  Yesterday,  Ellesmere's  secretary 
sent  me  a  letter  to  say  that  the  gent,  of  the  hanging  committee 
"would  take  care  that  Mr.  Leighton's  pictures  were  placed  in 
the  most  favourable  position."  ^  So  let  us  hope  for  the  best. 
I  must  tell  you  that  Vic.  is  come  home,  and  is  now  opposite 
to  me,  and  that  she  looks  admirably  well.  We  have  had  heaps 
of  people  at  H.  House  at  dinner  almost  every  day.  Maro- 
chetti  came  yesterday.  He  is  full  of  the  subject  of  colouring 
statues,  and  has  just  taken  to  Osborne  two  busts  which  the 
Queen  was  to  present  to-day  to  P.  Albert  for  his  birthday. 
Marochetti  traite  (V iynbeciles  all  the  English  sculptors  who  cannot 
yet  take  in  this  "undoubted  fact."  He  says  Gibson  is  the  only 
one  who  admits  it,  but  even  he  will  not  go  Marochetti's  lengths. 
Watts  is  (you  know)  at  Malvern,  and  the  doctor  thought  him 
decidedly  better  before  he  went,  and  that  he  may  get  into 
tolerable  health.  I  think  he  is  to  be  at  Malvern  three  weeks. 
John  Leslie's  wedding  is  at  this  moment  proceeding  ;  he  has 
almost  settled  to  buy  Lady  C.  Lascelles'  house  at  Campden  Hill, 
which  will  be  a  capital  position  for  his  studio,  and  another  Sunday 
lounge  for  you  next  year.  Next  year !  {eheu  fugaces !)  a  long 
time  to  wait  to  see  you  again  under  my  roof,  you  very  dear  boy. 
I  always  think  this  dispersing  time  so  melancholy.  I  wonder  if 
I  shall  hear  from  you  before  Venice.  Oh  yes,  of  course,  you 
will  write  wherever  you  stop.  Mind  and  tell  me  about  your 
studies,  and  what  you  see  and  do — above  all  things  take  care  of 
your  health,  and  don't  catch  fever  by  working  in  the  sun,  &c. 
Charles  says  he  can't  think  where  your  hat  box  can  be — he  is 
in    ecstasies  with    your    old    trousers,   which   have    come   out   bran 

^  Mrs.  Sartoris. 

^  In  the  Yearly  Exhibition  at  Manchester,  where  Leighton  sent  the  "  Romeo," 
"Pan,"  and  the  "Venus." 


262  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

new  and  a  capital  fit !     You  would  be  quite  envious  if  you  could 

see  them. 

Good-bye,  best  of  Fays.  I  shall  send  this  letter  off  and  write 
another  in  a  few  days.  I  will  mark  outside  the  dates  of  my 
letters  (and  pray,  mind  and  always  date  yours — you  never  do) 
so  that  you  will  know  which  to  open  first.  God  bless  you,  you 
dear  good  fellow. — Love  your  fond  old  Babbo, 

London,  Thursday,  August  28. 
Dearest  Fay, — One  line  to  say  that  this  afternoon  your  letter 
of   Sunday    with  the  enclosed  for   Harrison  reached  me.     It   is  a 
relief  to    me  that   you  got  the   letters,   and   I    think    your    answer 
does   very    well,  but    as   it  had   no  cover,   and  that   I   was  obliged 
to  send  it   in  my  own   name  to   Harrison,  I   added,  what  you  had 
better   have   done,  that  if   necessary   you    could   easily   come   over 
the   beginning  of   November,   and    I   rather   hope  they  will  accept 
that   offer,    as    by   that    time    the    Court   will    have  returned   from 
Scotland    (perhaps   to    Windsor    though),   and    you    might    have  a 
chance  of  being  brought  into  contact  with  Albert,  and  you  would 
jabber   good   German   to  him    and   win   his   heart,   which    may   be 
valuable   to   you.      With   regard   to   Watts,   he   said    he  should  be 
too  happy  to  do  anything  for  you,  but  he  wished  you  to  be  thrown 
with  Albert.      He  (Watts)  is   better   and   has  left   Malvern.     I   got 
yesterday  the   Manchester  Guardian,   with   a   sort   of  preliminary   list 
of    the    pictures    which    are    to    be    opened    to    the    private    view 
to-morrow.     They  were  not  then  all  hung,  but  they  mention  the 
"  Romeo  "  as  in  a  conspicuous  place — a  sombre   picture,  but  the 
Romeo  and   Juliet  finely  conceived — or   something   to   that   effect. 
You  shall  hear  all  about  it.      I  have  got  little  Ffrench  till  Saturday, 
when   I    go   to    Hatchford    and    he  home.       I    expect   Adelaide  to- 
morrow— we   dine    with    her,    and    I  fear  shall   have   ,   which 

will  be  a  potent  bore.  There  is  of  course  no  other  news. 
Penelope  Bentinck  has  produced  a  huge  boy,  and  is  quite  well. 
John  Leslie's  marriage  went  oft"  without  any  tears,  and  he  made 
a  very  good  "  neat  and  appropriate." 

God  bless  you,  my  very  dear  boy — you  are  not  so  fond  of 
me  as  I  am  of  you — be  sure  of  it.  Take  care  of  yourself,  and 
write  to  and  love  your  old  Babbino. 


FRIENDS  263 

Tell  me  all  about  your  studies,  as  they  interest  me,  and  don't 
forget  to  put  me  up  to  some  pretty  cheap  gilt-moulding  for  my 
frame. 

Adelaide  was  pleased  and  touched  at  your  seeing  about  her 
pictures.  Fay,  she  is  devotedly  attached  to  you — you  may  be 
sure  of  it. 

Hatchford,  September^. 

My  dearest  Fay, — I  am  going  to  begin  a  letter  to  you 
which  I  can  only  send  when  I  know  where  to  direct  to  you, 
for  after  Venice  (from  whence  I  have  not  heard  from  you  yet) 
you  have  given  me  no  address.  I  hope  to  hear  that  you  got  all 
mine  sent  to  that  place,  and  particularly  the  one  enclosing  a  copy 
of  Phipps'  letter  to  me  in  which  he  tells  me  it  is  the  Queen's 
wish  that  you  come  over  here  on  your  return  to  Paris.  I  got 
your  letter  from  Meran  on  Thursday  last,  and  I  sent  it  off  to 
Adelaide  by  that  post,  enjoining  her  to  let  me  have  it  back  by 
the  next,  since  which  I  have  never  had  a  line  from  her,  and  at  last 
grew  so  alarmed  that  I  wrote  to  Anne  to  ask  what  had  happened, 
and  that  I  could  not  but  fear  Ad.  had  been  sent  for  to  Edward^ 
in  Ireland.  To  this  letter  I  got  no  reply,  and  I  have  been  in 
great  suspense  and  anxiety  till  this  morning,  when  sure  enough 
my  surmise  proved  correct,  and  I  got  a  few  lines  from  Adelaide 
herself  from  Muckross,  whither  she  arrived  on  Saturday,  having 
left  Warnford  the  day  before,  they  having  sent  for  her.  She 
has,  I  do  not  doubt,  written  to  you  and  told  you  that  she  found 
him  neither  dead  or  dying,  but  in  a  low,  bilious  fever,  having 
been  in  bed  a  week,  and  the  doctor  not  giving  much  hope  of  a 
speedy  recovery.  She,  however,  intends  to  move  him  as  soon  as 
it  is  possible,  but  it  may  be  some  time  first,  and  of  course  their 
plans  are  more  or  less  uncertain,  and  mine  of  meeting  them  in 
London  at  an  end,  as  I  shall  be  gone  to  Worsley  before  they 
can  be  in  town.  It  is,  however,  a  mercy  that  this  illness  is  not 
even  more  serious  than  it  is.  When  I  heard  his  account  of 
himself  as  I  passed  through  London,  I  wondered  that  she  was 
not  more  alarmed,  but  I  did  not  tell  her  how  serious  the  case 
appeared  to  me,  and  as  it  has  proved  ;  and  when  I  did  not  hear 
from  her,  I    immediately  guessed  what  had  occurred.     She  found 

^  Mr.  Edward  Sartoris. 


2  64  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Fordwich    there,    and    says    the    place    appeared    a    Paradise,   and 
now    that    she    is    easy    about    Edward,    perhaps    she    won't    mind 
spending    the    time    there    instead    of    Warnford.      Only,    the    boy 
was  to  go  to  Eton  on  the    nth,  and   I  don't  know  how  they  will 
manage    that.      I    have   written    to   Ad.   to-day,   and   have    sent   her 
a    volume    I    received   this    morning   from    Fanny    Kemble.       The 
letter  would   interest  you,  but   is  too  bulky  to  send.     She  speaks 
of  you  in  a  way  that  pleases  me  and   would    gratify    your   vanity 
in    every    respect,    and    describes    you    as    one    of    the    most    in- 
teresting   people    she    ever    met,   and    hopes    that    your    art    may 
be  an  unceasing  source  of    fame,  profit,  and   delight  to  you.       I 
will  keep  the  letter  and   show   it   to    you    when    I    have  the   hap- 
piness   of    seeing    you,   my  dear    Fay.       When    Sarah    leaves    her 
she    is    to    begin    reading    in    the   West,    and    I    suspect    that   will 
answer    better    to    her    than    the    girl's    society!        Dear    Fay,    my 
sister  writes   to  me  that  she  and    Brackley   went  into   Manchester 
to    see   your  pictures.       I    will   transcribe    what   she  says :    ''  They 
are  pretty   well    placed,    but    the    '  Romeo '    is   so    dark   a    picture 
it     is     difficult    to    see,     and     the     lighting     of     the     gallery     has 
something  of   the  defect    of  that  at  B.    House.       The   'Pan'   and 
'  Venus '  seem  to  me  to  be  very  good  pictures.     B.  considers  them 
improper.      I   like  the   '  Pan  '   the   best.     There  are   not  many  good 
pictures  in   the  Exhibition."     To  this   I   replied  that   I   was   much 
diverted   by    Brackley's   prudishness,   but   that   if   such    personages 
were  to  be  painted,  it  was  not  possible  to  clothe  them  in  crino- 
line  or    in   green   gauze    drawers    such    as   Bomba    imposed    upon 
his    Ballerina.      It    makes    me    so    sick,    all    that    cant    about    im- 
propriety,  but    there    is    so    much    of    it    as    to    make   the   sale   of 
<'  nude    figures "   very  improbable,    and  therefore    I    hope  you   will 
turn  your  thoughts  entirely   to  well-covered   limbs,   and   paint   no 
more    Venuses  for   some  time   to    come.      I   trust   you    will  devote 
all    your  energies   to  the   Romeo,  Dalilah   and  Syren,  and  if    you 
have   any  spare  time,   that   you   will   do    our    Friar    Lawrence.      I 
forget  if  I  told  you  that  Miss  Kaye  saw  your  portrait  of  yourself, 
and  says   it  is  quite  a  libel  on  your  physiognomy.     Why  did  you 
make  yourself  so  pinched  and  sad-looking.  Fay  ? 

September    12.  —  Your     letter     from     Venice     of     5th     reached 
me   this   morning.      I    feel   sure   you   will    not   have   got   my    long 


FRIENDS  265 

letter  directed  there  on  the  5th  and  enclosing  Phipps'  answer,  so 
I  had  better  transcribe  it  :  "  It  would  be  very  desirable  that 
Mr.  L.  should  run  over  from  Paris  when  there  to  see  exactly 
what  is  the  damage  done  to  his  picture,  and  I  will  have  nothing 
done  to  it  in  the  meantime,  but  care  shall  be  taken  that  the 
injury  shall  not  be  increased.  Mr.  L.  does  not  state  in  his 
letter  where  an  answer  would  reach  him,  and  if  you  are  in 
communication  with  him  perhaps  you  would  have  the  kindness 
to  mention  to  him  what  Her  Majesty's  wishes  on  this  subject 
are."  So,  you  see,  my  dear  boy,  you  must  come,  and  perhaps 
it  may  not  be  time  so  wasted,  as  I  shall  try  and  find  out  when  the 
Queen  comes  back  from  Scotland,  so  that  if  possible  you  may 
time  your  arrival  accordingly.  The  P.  of  Wales  is  going  to  see 
the  manufactories  at  Manchester,  and  they  are  going  to  ask  him 
to  Worsley,  I  believe.  Only  fancy  those  brutes  at  Warnford 
never  sending  me  Adelaide's  ^  letter  written  to  me  the  morning 
of  her  hastening  of¥  to  Ireland  a  week  ago  until  to-day !  Too 
bad.  She  wrote  in  great  distress  of  mind  and  evidently  hardly 
expected  to  find  Edward  alive,  as  she  did  not  believe  the  tele- 
graph which  said  he  was  better,  thinking  that  if  it  were  so  they 
would  not  have  sent  for  her.  You  dear  boy,  I  am  so  glad  you 
enjoy  your  Venice — which  is  all  very  pretty  no  doubt,  but  I 
hate  stinks  and  fleas — and  they  abound  there.  I  hate  wobbling 
in  a  boat  and  walking  in  dirty  alleys,  so  I  don't  envy  you  at 
all.  Have  you  fallen  in  with  either  of  the  new  married  couples, 
Wilson  or  Leslie  ?  Fay,  it  is  well  you  should  come  and  see 
me,  for  I  don't  think  there  is  much  chance  of  my  going  to 
Paris.  The  Hollands  are  going  to  Naples,  as  the  wall  of  their 
house  at  Paris  has  been  damaged  by  the  pulling  down  of  the 
next  house  and  has  to  be  rebuilt,  and  I  shall  have  no  money 
to  pay  for  lodging  and  food.  There  are  long  lists  of  the 
pictures  the  Queen  and  others  are  to  send  to  the  great  Man- 
chester Exhibition  next  year — I  think  twenty  at  least  from  the 
Royal  Galleries,  and  Ellesmere  sends  eight  or  ten.  I  see  that 
Eastlake  is  at  Rome,  so  you  may  fall  in  with  him  there.  I 
conclude  my  next  letter  must  be  directed  there.  You  should 
recollect  to  give  your  address  d'avance.      The  second  post  has  just 

*  Mr  Edward  Sartoris. 


266  THE    LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

brought  me  the  enclosed,  which,  as  she  says  she  don't  write  to 
you,  I  send  (though  it  will  cost  a  fortune),  knowing  that  it  will 
gladden  your  eyes  to  see  her  hand.  She  loves  you  dearly  as  I 
do,  Fay  !  Your  Meran  letters  are  very  pretty,  and  I  wish  I  could 
see  that  place.  Good-bye,  and  God  bless  you.  We  have  lovely 
weather — not  one  bad  day  since  I  have  been  here.  Go  and  see 
the  Villa  Salviate.  What  have  you  done  with  Steinle — what  heard 
of  Gamba  ?     Love. — Your  old  loving  father,  H. 

Enclosed    is    one    from    Mrs.    Sartoris    to    Mr.    Greville, 
which  he  sends  on  to  Leighton. 

MUCKROSS,    KiLLARNEV. 

Many  thanks.  I  got  a  letter  too  this  morning,  which  I 
send  you  with  your  own — let  me  have  mine  back.  E.  (Edward 
Sartoris)  is  certainly  a  little  better,  thank  God — still  in  bed  though. 
He  hopes  perhaps  to  get  ofif  next  Saturday — this  appears  to 
me  nothing  short  of  impossible — Monday  I  should  think  the  very 
soonest  for  such  a  move.  This  place  is  divinely  beautiful,  I  see, 
but  I  go  out  very  little,  and  what  with  the  shock  I  received 
before  starting,  and  the  fatigue  of  my  rapid  journey,  and  the 
anxiety  about  him,  I  feel  incapable  of  receiving  any  impression 
from  the  place.  I  seem  to  acknowledge  its  beauty,  but  I  cannot 
get  even  a  momentary  enjoyment  out  of  it  at  present.  The 
hosts  are  very  kind.  Herbert  always  was  an  excellent  fellow. 
I  cannot  write  to  Fay,  for  with  all  the  delay  caused  by  his 
letter  having  had  to  follow  me  here,  my  answer  would  no 
longer  catch  him  at  Venice,  and  I  do  not  know  where  he  next 
pitches  his  tent.  Dear  boy !  he  seems  very  happy — God  bless 
him  and  keep  him  so  ! 

MuCKROSS,   Tuesday,  C)th. 

Hatchford,  Septernber  22. 

Dearest  Fay, — The  enclosed  reached  me  to-day  having  first 
been  sent  to  Ebury  Street.^  I  think  it  best  to  send  it  to  you  that 
you  may  reflect  on  what  you  will  do,  though  it  seems  to  me  that 
with  the  exception  of  the  "  Cimabue "  you  have  no  picture  you 
could  send  to  this  Exhibition.     If  you  wish  to  be  represented  by 

^  Papers  relating  to  the  great  Manchester  Exhibition  held  in  1857. 


FRIENDS  267 

that  work,   I   conclude  you  would  have   to  ask  permission   of    the 
Queen   to   send   it   there,  and   this   should   be  done   through   "The 
Honourable  Colonel  Phipps,"  or  Mr.  Harrison,  his  secretary.     This 
permission   would   of   course   be  granted  at  once.     When  Charles 
told  me  in  my  bed   this  morning  that  a  letter  had  come  for   you 
from   Manchester,  I  fondly  hoped   it  was  to  announce  sale  of  one 
or  other  of  your  pictures  !      I   wrote  yesterday,  and  have   nothing 
more  to  say  to-day  but  that  I  am  better,  though  still  seedy.     We 
have  got  the  equinoctial  gales  with  rain.      I  fancy  we,  France  and 
England,  are  going  to   recall  our  missions  from  Naples,  if   Bomba 
don't    give    in,    and   send    squadrons    of    ships.       But    what    then  ? 
I    don't  suppose   we   mean   to   bombard   the   town.       But   he   will 
do  just  enough   to   give    us  a  pretence  for    holding  our  hand,  and 
matters   will    then    resume    their    ordinary    course,    and    the    K.   of 
the  two   Sicilies  be  governed  just  as  it  was  before.     Our  position 
is  a  very  ticklish  one  in  this  affair.     I   long  to  hear  whether  you 
saw    Pasta — and    anything    more    than    the   waddle,    the    red   face 
and  beard.      Mind  and   answer  my   questions.      I   should  tell   you 
that   amongst  your  papers  that  came  from   Manchester  they  sent 
P.  Albert's   letter  to   Ellesmere,  and   the   long   prospectus  too,  but 
there   is   no    use   in   forwarding   it   to   you — this    will    already  cost 
a  fortune,  but  I  think  it  best  to  send  it.     When   is  it  you   expect 
to  be  here  ?     How  long  do  you  stay  at  home  ? — Addio,  carissimo, 

H.  G. 

London,  September  29. 
My  dearest  Fay, — Here  I  am,  sleeping  in  London  on  my 
way  to  Worsley  to-morrow  morning,  and  1  have  got  my  Mere 
Augusta  occupying  your  room  ;  the  first  female  I  have  ever  housed 
or  fed,  and  it  will  be  a  rehearsal  for  Sister  Ad.  I  have  just 
missed  her,  as  she  went  to  the  station  as  I  left  it,  but  I  found 
a  letter  from  her  just  returned  from  putting  the  boy  to  school  ; 
it  is  a  bore  that  I  missed  her,  as  I  shall  not  see  her  for  an  age. 
Edward  has  been  committing  ail  sorts  of  follies  and  is  again 
confined  to  his  room,  but  is  better.  He  ought  to  come  to 
London  and  consult  a  clever  man,  or  he  will  be  very  ill,  as  he 
was  once  before.  What  a  fellow  you  are  never  to  say  a  word 
about    Pasta  to   me  !     Of  course    Mrs.  Siddons   had  a  magnificent 


268  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

eye  and  brow — who  said  she  had  not  ? — and  was  a  glorious 
actress,  but  I  should  always  have  preferred  Reston.  What  did 
Pasta  say  of  her?  You  are  wrong  about  P.  not  being  powerful 
— she  was  tremendous ;  her  voice  was  one  of  immense  power — 
almost  coarse  at  times,  but  prodigious,  and  her  gesies  sublime 
from  grace  and  strength.  Dear  Fay,  I  have  measured  the 
frame  ;  it  is  twelve  inches  wide  and  fourteen  long.  Now  do 
find  me  a  pretty  cheap  croute.  I  have  seen  no  one  in  London 
but  Lady  Shelburne,  who  said  there  was  no  news.  She  dis- 
approves, like  me,  of  the  policy  with  regard  to  Naples,  and  I 
think  we  shall  find  by-and-by  a  great  reaction  Id  dessus.  By- 
the-bye,  when  at  Rome  go  and  hear  the  opera  Verdi  has  been 
composing  for  that  place  on  the  story  of  Adrienne,  and  tell  me 
all  about  it.  He  wrote  formerly  such  pretty  melodies,  and  is  a 
clever  fellow.  I  don't  know  what  Adelaide  will  do  about  going 
to  Germany,  but  I  hope  give  it  up,  as  for  many  reasons  it  appears 
to  me  at  this  moment  to  be  a  foolish  scheme. 

Good-night,  you  dear  boy.  I  can't  frank  this,  as  it  is  late, 
and  I  don't  know  how,  so  you  must  pay  this  time.  Write  soon, 
and  answer  my  letters. 

I    don't   quite    understand    what   it   is    you   are    doing  in    Italy 

except  amuse  yourself.     Is  there  any  other ?      How  long  will 

it  be  before  I  see  you  ? — Addio,  caro  caro,  tanto  tanto,  H. 

On  the  death  of  Lady  Ellesmere,  his  sister,  in  answer 
to   Leighton's  letter  of  sympathy  Mr.  Greville  writes — 

Hatch  FORD,  Wednesday. 

My  dearest  Fay, — In  my  affliction,  I  have  one  consolation — 
and  it  is  such  events  as  these  that  prove  it — I  am  rich  in  friends, 
more  so,  much  more  than  I  deserve — and  amongst  them  there 
is  no  one  whose  unselfish  love  I  prize  more  than  yours. 

Dear  Fay,  I  know  you  feel  for  me,  and  I  am  grateful. 

God  bless  you  for  it. — Your  affectionate  H. 

A  short  inote  to  his  father  from  Leigh  ton  announces  the 
death  of  this  dear  friend  in  December   1872. 


FRIENDS  269 

ATHENiEUM  Club,  Pall  Mall,  S.W., 
Friday. 

My  dear  Papa, — I  lost  last  night  one  of  my  oldest  and 
dearest  friends — Henry  Greville  ;  he  died  without  much  suffering, 
and  looks  this  morning  calm  and  beautiful  in  his  rest.  You  know 
what  I  lose  in  him. — Your  affectionate  son,  F^RED. 

Among  many  letters  of  the  kind,  preciously  preserved 
by  those  who  owe  much  to  Leighton,  the  following  notes, 
addressed  to  his  young  friend  "Johnny"  (Mr.  John  Hanson 
Walker),  may  be  found  interesting  as  exemplifying  the 
trouble  which  Leighton  would  take  in  helping  young  artists, 
and  with  what  kindness,  sincerity,  and  delicacy  he  tendered 
his  advice  and  assistance.     None  of  these  letters  are  dated. 

The  Athenaeum. 
My  dear  Johnny, — I  write  one  line  in  haste  to  say  how  sorry 
I  am  to  hear  that  your  health  has  been  unsatisfactory  of  late.  I 
earnestly  trust  you  won't  disregard  your  doctor's  advice,  and  that 
you  will,  at  any  sacrifice^  do  something  to  recover  strength,  even 
though  a  long  sea  voyage  were  necessary.  Health  is  the  first 
thing.  Talk  it  over  with  Miss  Nan  ;  if  her  love  is  as  sincere  as 
you  believe,  and  I  don't  for  a  moment  doubt  it,  she  will  give  you  the 
same  advice. 

For  myself,  I  begin  to  think  my  studio  will  never  be  ready.  I 
have  not  done  a  stroke  of  work.  I  hope  at  the  end  of  next  week 
I  shall  be  at  it  again. 

In  October  I  am  off  to  Rome. — Yours  sincerely, 

Fred  Leighton. 
2  Holland  Park  Road, 

Addison  Road,  Kensington. 

Athen^um  Club, 

Pall  Mall,  S.W. 

Supposing  a  proper  price  were  given,  should  you  care  to  copy 
(for  a  man  of  position)  a  portrait  by  Sir  William  Beechey  and  one 
or  two  by  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  ?  I  am  not  asking  you  to  do  it 
for  a  moment,  I  merely  want  to  know  whether  you  would  care  to 
do  the  work  ;   if  so,  please  let  me  know  what  you  would  ask. 


270  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

I  have  seen  Mr.  Greville  to-day,  and  he  begs  me  to  tell  you  that 
the  Countess  Grey  will  be  glad  if  you  can  undertake  for  her,  for  the 
sum  of  £iOi  a  copy  of  a  portrait  of  Lady  Charlotte  Greville.  The 
picture  is  now  with  the  Countess  of  Ellesmere,  Mr.  Greville's  sister, 
and  shall  be  sent  to  you  wherever  you  wish,  if  you  will  let  me  know 
at  once.  Is  it  to  go  to  Great  Castle  Street  ?  Lady  Ellesmere  will 
be  extremely  obliged  if  you  will  not  keep  the  picture  a  moment 
longer  than  you  absolutely  require  it  to  make  a  good  copy  ;  the 
portrait  is  that  of  her  mother,  and  she  is  extremely  loth  to  part  with 
it,  even  for  a  time.  Please  send  me  a  line  in  answer  to  this,  and 
believe  me  always. 

Thursday. 

The  picture  will  be  duly  sent  to  you. 

I  have  another  matter  for  your  consideration  :  Mr.  Greville 
wants  to  know  if  you  can  think  of  any  good  picture  (Sir  Joshua  or 
Gainsborough  would  be  best)  that  would  make  a  good  companion 
to  the  one  he  has  already  bought  of  you  ;  if  you  could  suggest  any- 
thing suitable,  he  would  give  you  the  commission.  I  am  very  glad 
you  should  have  encouragement,  but  I  trust  you  will  not  flag  in  your 
zeal  about  more  important  studies. 

I  send  you  the  money  from  Mr.  Greville  for  the  portrait  of  his 
mother.  I  am  very  glad  you  should  have  this  new  commission, 
but  you  must  thank  hint,  not  me,  for  it  was  entirely  his  idea  and 
desire.  He  is  indeed  one  of  the  kindest  and  best  men  possible. 
I  look  on  him  myself  as  a  second  father. 

To  save  time,  I  shall  make  arrangements  for  you  to  work  in  my 
studio  on  the  ^  first  days  of  January,  if  you  can  manage  it.  I  shall 
be  out  of  town,  and  you  will  have  the  place  all  to  yourself. 

I  wish  you  a  happy  Xmas  and  New  Year,  and  remain. 

Warnford  Court, 

Bishops  Waltham. 

You  will  forgive  me,  I  am  sure,  for  not  writing  to  you  to  thank 
you  for  your  letter,  received  some  weeks  back  ;  but  the  fact  is  I  have 
been  so  very  busy  as  to  make  writing  a  matter  of  very  great  diffi- 
culty.     I  heard  from  your  father  not  long  ago  that  you  have  been 


FRIENDS  271 

very  fortunate  in  getting  capital  commissions  for  portraits  where 
you  have  been  staying.  I  am  very  glad  indeed  to  hear  it,  and  trust 
sincerely  that  you  feel  you  are  progressing  as  steadily  in  proficiency 
as  in  prosperity.  To  the  commissions  you  have  had  in  the  country, 
1  have  one  to  add  here.  Mr.  Henry  Greville  wishes  you  to  paint  for 
him  a  copy  of  a  head  of  a  relation  of  his — I  believe,  of  poor  Lady 
Ellesmere,  his  sister,  whose  recent  death  has  been  such  a  terrible 
grief  to  him.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  be  glad  to  undertake  this  paint- 
ing, even  though  it  may  not  in  itself  be  very  interesting.  The  size 
is  a  sort  of  oval  kit-cat,  not  large.  He  proposes  to  offer  you  ten 
pounds  for  it. 

How  is  Miss  Nan  ?  I  hope  you  have  good  accounts  of  her,  and 
that  all  goes  smoothly  between  you. 

I  send  this  to  Bath  to  be  forwarded,  as  I  don't  know  your  present 
whereabouts. 

Dear  Johnny, — I  am  just  off  to  Paris,  and  write  one  line  in  hot 
haste  to  thank  you  for  yours,  and  to  say  that  I  am  delighted  to  hear 
you  are  conscious  of  progress.  Come  back  as  soon  as  you  can 
conveniently,  please,  because  Mr.  Greville  has  borrowed  Lady  Elles- 
mere's  portrait  for  you  to  copy,  and  wants  to  return  it  as  soon  as 
possible  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire. 

Come  and  see  me  when  you  return,  and  believe  me,  with  kind 
regards  to  Miss  Nan, — Yours  always,  F.  L. 

2  Holland  Park  Road, 
Kensington,  W. 

I  want  very  much,  before  they  have  quite  disappeared,  to  get  for 
myself  and  for  a  friend  a  couple  of  old-fashioned  country  bumpkins' 
smocks  ;  you  know  the  sort  of  thing.  Do  you  chance  to  know  any 
one  in  any  of  the  villages  about  Bath  who  could  pick  up  a  couple  ? 
I  should  like  a  brown  one  {NOT  a  white  Sunday  one)  and  a  green  one, 
and  that  they  should  not  be  washed — well  worn,  untidy  things.  If 
you  saw  your  way  to  getting  me  such  garments,  I  should  be  very 
grateful,  but  don't  trouble  about  it. 

If  you  have  leisure  to  think  of  anything  but  Miss  Nan  just 
at  present,  will  you  do  me  a  favour  ?  Will  you  get  for  me  a 
peasant's    wide-awake,    in    shape    like    the    one    I    painted    in    your 


272  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

portrait,  only  really  old  and  soiled  and  stained;  bought,  in  fact, 
if  possible,  off  a  bumpkin's  head  ?  Can  you  do  this  for  me, 
and  either  send  it  or  bring  it  if  you  are  about  to  return  shortly  ? 
I  will  pay  you  when  we  meet. 

When  is  the  wedding  to  be  ?  or  is  it  already  over  ?  I  wish 
you  all  happiness  and  prosperity,  and  remain  with  kind  remem- 
brances to   Miss  (or   Mrs.)  Nan, — Yours  truly, 

Fred  Leighton. 

I  hope  you  can  read  this  ;  my  hands  are  so  cold  I  can  scarcely 
hold  the  pen. 

Mr.  Greville  has  very  kindly  desired  me  to  give  you  another 
commission,  this  time  a  larger  one.  He  wants  you  to  copy  from 
my  large  picture  the  group  of  women  carrying  flowers,  the  size 
of  the  original.^  He  offers  you  ^25  for  if.  If  you  are  disposed, 
as  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be,  I  would,  if  I  were  you,  write 
him  a  line  of  thanks  for  the  kind  interest  he  shows  in  you.  In 
great  haste. 

One  line  in  a  great  hurry  to  say  that  I  am  delighted  to  hear 
that  you  have  got  in  to  the  life  school  at  the  Royal  Academy, 
and  to  thank  you  for  the  photo.,  which  is  capital. 

I  have  not  touched  my  Venus  since  you  went  away.  I  have 
been  a  good  deal  out  of  town  myself,  and  have  spent  most  of 
my  time  in  finishing  the  two  large  decorative  figures,  which 
have   now  gone  home.       I   am   sorry   you   did   not  see  them. 

Come  as  soon  as  you  can  to   begin   Mr.  Greville's  picture. 

I  leave  town  Saturday  next,  and  shall  not  see  you  till  Saturday 
the  6th  July,  so  I  write  a  line  to  say  that  you  will  set  to  work 
by  yourself  ;  the  maid  will  light  you  a  fire  and  give  you  the  key 
of  the  studio. 

I  have  written  direct  to  Gatwell  to  order  the  canvas,  or  it 
would  not  have  been  ready  in  time.  You  are  to  paint  the  group 
full  size.  Trace  it  to  get  it  quite  accurate.  Put  the  head  of  the 
centre  figure,  the  woman  in  yellow,  about  four  inches  or  four  and 

^  "  A  Syracusan  Bride." 


'4 


-■^^ 


I 


IP 


PORTRAIT  OF  MRS.  HANSON  WALKER 
By  permission  of  Mr.  Hanson  "Walker 


FRIENDS  273 

a  half  inches  from  the  top  of  the  canvas  ;  that  will  give  you  all 
the  rest.  Leave  out  the  little  child  sitting.  Go  slap  at  the  colour, 
vigorously  but  NOT  quick.  The  slower  you  work,  if  you  work 
with    energy,    the    sooner    you    get    through,    and    the    better    the 

result. 

I  hope  you  are  enjoying  yourself. 

Although  I  certainly  think  it  is  a  pity  to  exhibit  too  soon, 
nevertheless  I  think  that  your  particular  situation  just  now 
does  justify  you  in  doing  so,  as  long  as  you  confine  yourself 
to  the  Suffolk  Street  Gallery.      I  sincerely  hope  you  may  sell  your 

pictures. 

With  kind  regards  to   Mrs.  Nan  and  love   to  my  god-child,  I 

am,  in  haste,  yours  always,  F-  L- 

I   can't  quite  make  out  the  price  as  written  in   your  note,  so 

to  avoid  mistakes  I  send  blank  cheque,  which  pray  fill  in  yourself. 

Just  off — good-bye. 

26th  December. 

I  have  got  your  note  and  enclose  little  cheque.  This  is  as  it 
should  be.  It  is  absurd  that  because  I  am  an  old  friend,  you 
should  be  a  loser  by  me  in  time  and  pocket. 

With  a  merry  Xmas  and  New  Year  to  you  and  Nan,  I  remain, 
in  haste,  your  sincerely,  Fred  Leighton. 

2  Holland  Park  Road, 
Monday. 

Many  thanks  for  your  letter.  I  have  had  absolutely  no  time 
to  answer  sooner,  and  now  can  only  do  so  most  briefly.  I  am 
extremely  glad  to  hear  of  the  success  of  your  labours  at  Dor- 
chester, and  think  you  are  very  right  to  take  for  yourself  and 
"  Mrs.  Nan "   a  refreshing  little  holiday  on  the  hills. 

I  will  begin  the  portrait  next  week,^  when  you  return,  at  which 
time  also  I  hope  to  show  you  some  under-painted  work  which  I 
think  may  interest  you.  I  shall  certainly  call  and  see  your  screen. 
It  will  no  doubt  be  a  very  useful  bit  of  "  property  "  to  you. 

Remember  me  very  kindly  to  your  wife. 

1  The  ^portrait  of  Mrs.  Hanson  Walker,  which  Leighton  painted  as  a  wedding 
present  for  his  young  friend. 

VOL.  I.  S 


2  74  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

My  dear  Johnny, — I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
letter,  telling  me  of  your  doings  in  the  country.  I  think  you 
will  do  wisely  in  going  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  to  paint  landscape  ; 
the  danger  of  copying  the  old  masters  too  exclusively,  as  you 
have  been  forced  to  do  lately,  is  that  one  is  apt  to  fall  into 
mannerism  by  trying  to  see  Nature  with  the  eyes  of  others  ; 
painting  landscape  direct  from  Nature  is  the  best  possible  cor- 
rective against  this  tendency. 

I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  and  what  you  have  done  on  your 
return,  if  you  are  here  before  the  20th  or  22nd  August  ;  if  not, 
we  shall  meet  in  October,  when   I   return  from  the   East. 

I  am  working  away  at  my  picture,  which  will  be  under- 
painted  before   I   leave   England. 

I  wish  you  joy  of  your  summer  trip,  and  remain,  yours  very 
truly,  Fred  Leighton. 

bth  September. 

I  have  just  got  your  letter,  and  scribble  a  line  in  haste  (for 
I  am  very  busy)  to  say  that  you  are  wholly  at  liberty  to  do 
whatever  you  choose  with  Nan's  picture,  and  that  I  am  glad 
for  your  sake  that  people  like  it.  I  am  also  much  pleased  to 
hear  that  you  have  an  interesting  portrait  on  the  easel,  in  which 
you  see  progress  and  improvement  in  the  matter  of  breadth  and 
light  and  subordination  of  half  tints  ;  nothing  is  more  important 
in  painting  ;  I  think  that  after  accuracy  and  refinement  of  form, 
it  is  the  quality  you  should  most  strive  for.  I  am  myself  toler- 
ably well,  but  not  by  any  means  brilliantly.  I  have  got  to  work 
at  a  few  small  heads,  which  you  will  see  before  long. 

In  haste,  with  love  to  Nan  and  the  children. 

Lynton,  Saturday. 
I  have  just  received  your  note,  and  hear  with  sincere  regret 
that  you  have  not  been  prospering  lately  in  your  affairs.  I 
am  in  great  difBculty  as  to  what  I  can  do  for  you  in  the 
matter  of  the  Curatorship.  If  it  were  only  a  question  of  testify- 
ing to  your  character,  zeal,  industry,  &c.  &c.,  I  should  have 
real  pleasure  in  giving  you  that  testimony  in  the  highest  and 
fullest    degree.     But,    my    dear   Johnny,  if    I    am    not   very  much 


FRIENDS 


275 


mistaken,  the  Curator  is  expected  to  be  able  when  required 
to  advise  and  direct  the  pupils,  and  I  cannot  in  candour  conceal 
from  you  that  your  age  and  experience  do  not  appear  to  me 
yet  to  qualify  you  for  that  part  of  the  duties.  If  it  were  not  so, 
why  does  the  candidate  send  in  some  of  his  works  for  inspection  ? 
You  must  not  be  angry  with  me,  Johnny  ;  you  know  I  have 
always  spoken  the  plain  truth  to  you,  and  am  always  ready  and 
desirous  to  help  you  when  it  is  in  my  power.  I  should  be  only 
too  glad  to  think  of  your  obtaining  some  post  that  should  relieve 
you  from  all  immediate  pecuniary  care.  Give  my  love  to  your 
wife  and  children,  and   believe  me  always,   yours  most  sincerely, 

Fred  Leighton. 

P.S. — I  shall  be  back  on  Wednesday  or  Thursday. 

Sunday. 

In  case  any  alteration  should  have  been  made  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  Schools  during  my  absence,  and  that  teaching  is 
not  expected  as  part  of  the  duties  of  a  curator,  I  send  you  a 
letter  to  the  Council,  as  I  should  be  sorry  you  lost  any  fair 
chance  by  my  absence. 

You  heard  from  me  no  doubt  yesterday. 

Care  of  MRS.  Walker, 

Nealinmore,  Glen  Columbkille, 

Co.  Donegal. 

I  have  got  your  note,  in  regard  to  which  I  feel  some  little 
embarrassment.  I  am,  as  you  know,  always  pleased  when  it 
is  in  my  power  to  be  of  any  use  to  you,  and  I  should  there- 
fore wish  to  help  you  in  this  matter  concerning  which  you 
write.  I  own,  however,  to  having  some  hesitation  in  asking  this 
favour  of  Mr.  Hodgson,  because  I  fear  that  the  granting  of  it 
would  be  a  source  of  a  good  deal  of  inconvenience  to  him, 
and  he  might,  out  of  his  old  friendship,  be  put  in  an  awkward 
position  ;  he  would  be  equally  loth  to  say  "  yes "  or  "  no."  The 
picture  hangs  in  his  dining-room,  and  cannot  possibly  be  moved. 
The  copy  would  be  a  lengthy  affair,  for  there  is  an  enormous 
amount    of   work    in    the    group    you    speak    of,    and    you    would 


276  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

have,  therefore,  to  be  estabhshed  for  a  long  time  in  a  room 
which  is  in  daily  use  by  the  family.  I  do  not  at  all  say  that 
he  might  not  grant  the  favour  you  ask,  but  I  own  I  feel  that 
/  cannot,  discreetly,  ask  it  of  him.  I  am  sure  you  will  not 
misinterpret  my  declining,  and  I  shall  be  very  sincerely  glad  if 
you  yourself  succeed  in  your  direct  appeal. 

I  trust  you  and  yours  are  thriving,  and  that  you  have  not 
suffered  lately  from  your  leg. 

This  is  a  wild,  wind-swept  corner  of  Ireland  in  which  I  am 
staying,  and  abounding  in  matter  for  studying,  especially  rock 
forms,  but  the  inconstancy  of  the  weather  puts  sketching  almost 
out  of  the  question. 

This  is  a  matter  of  comparative  indifference  to  me,  as  I 
came  here  purposely  for  rest,  and  not  for  work. 

Give  my  love  to  Nan  and  the  chicks. — Sincerely  yours, 

Fred  Leighton. 

Do  you  know  of  any  one  who  would  do  a  life-size  copy  of 
a  portrait  of  the  Queen  in  robes  for  the  sum  of  £ioo  ?  -- 1  have 
been  asked  to  inquire.  It  is,  I  believe,  for  Chelsea  Hospital. 
In  former  days  it  might  have  been  worth  your  while  ;  now  it 
no  longer  is,  it  would  not  pay  you  ;  but  you  perhaps  know  of 
some  less  prosperous  artist  who  would  undertake  it,  and  who 
would  do  it  well — for  of  course  that  is  expected. 

2  Holland  Park  Road, 

Kensington,  W. 

{Posttnark,  Mar.  g.  82.) 

I  am  absolutely  ashamed  to  rob  you,  but  you  offer  me  the 
drawing  so  kindly  that  I  can't  possibly  refuse  it  ;  I  am  delighted 
with  it,  only  you  must  let  me  give  you  a  little  drawing  some 
day  in   return.     With   very  best  thanks. 

The  following  letter  was  written  when  Mr.  Hanson 
Walker  was  in  America.  In  it  Leighton  'refers  to  the 
ceiling  he  painted  for  Mr.  Marquand  (see  List  of  Illus- 
trations) : — 


STUDY  OF  GROUP  FOR  CEILING  IN  MUSIC  ROOM 

Executed  for  Mr.  Marquand,  New  York,  1886 
Leighton  House  Collection 


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FIRST  SKETCH  OF  GROUP  FOR  MR.  MARQUAND'S 

CEILING  IN  MUSIC  ROOM,  NEW  YORK 

Leighton  House  Collection 


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FRIENDS  277 

2  Holland  Park  Road, 

Kensington,  W., 

\2th  February  1887. 

Dear  Johnnie, — I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  letter  giving 
so  very  satisfactory  an  account  of  yourself  and  your  doings.  I 
had  already  heard  of  your  prosperity  in  a  general  way  from 
Nan,  who  came  to  see  me  before  starting,  but  who  told  me 
also  how  lonely  you  felt,  it  must  have  been  a  great  joy  to  you 
to  see  her  again,  and  it  will  be  a  still  greater  when  you  see  the 
{fourteen  ?)  youngsters  about  you  once  more  ;  you  will,  like  every- 
body who  crosses  the  water,  bring  back  a  very  pleasant  recollec- 
tion of  American  kindness  and  hospitality,  and,  I  am  glad  to 
think,  also  a  good  pocketful  of  money.  I  hope  it  will  bring 
you  luck  here.  I  am  glad  that  Mr.  Marquand  has  made  you 
welcome  to  his  house,  which  I  understand  is  very  beautiful.  I 
know  his  Vandyke  well  ;  it  belonged  to  an  acquaintance  of  mine. 
Lord  Methuen,  who  has  a  number  of  beautiful  things  at  Corsham. 
It  is  one  of  the  finest  I  know,  and  stands  quite  in  the  front 
rank  of  Vandykes.  The  Turner  also  I  know,  a  rare  favourite 
of  mine.  But  of  the  Rembrandt  I  know  nothing.  I  am  glad, 
too,  you  thought  my  "ceiling"  looked  well.  I  hope  he  has 
introduced  a  little  gold  in  the  rafters  to  bind  the  paintings  to  the 
ceiling  itself.  Give  my  love  to  Nan,  and  believe  me,  with  all 
good  wishes,  sincerely  yours,  Fred   Leighton. 

Please  remember   me  to   the   Marquands   and   to    your   friends 
the  Osbornes. 


CHAPTER   VI 

STEINLE   AND    ITALY   AGAIN— FIRST   IMPRESSIONS   OF 

THE    EAST,   1856-1858 

In  Mr.  Henry  Greville's  diary  we  find  the  following  entry: — 

Thursday,  July  2\th,  1856. 
Went    on    Monday   to    Hatchford    with    Leighton,   and    passed 
all   Tuesday   with    him    and    Mrs.   Sartoris   on    St.   George's    Hills. 
The  day  was  enchanting,  and  the   Hills  in  their  greatest  beauty. 

Before     leaving    London    in    1856     Leighton    wrote    to    his 
mother ; — 

London,  Wednesday,  1856. 
As  my  stay  in  London  is  drawing  to  a  close,  and  nobody 
writes  to  me,  I  must  write  to  somebody.  I  am  happy  to 
say  (for  I  know  it  will  interest  you)  that  my  "  Pan "  and 
"Venus"  are  admired  as  much  as  I  could  wish,  so  that  I 
am  not  without  hopes  of  selling  one  of  them  at  Manchester. 
Gibson  was  quite  delighted  with  them  ;  I  am,  however,  bound 
to  say  he  knows  nothing  about  it.  The  sketches  of  my 
"Orpheus"  I  have  sold  to  White  for  £2^,  which  comes 
"  unkimmon "  handy,  as  this  place  is  ruinous.  I  have  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Rossetti,  one  of  the  originators  of  the 
pre-Raphaelite  movement.  He  is  apparently  a  remarkably  agree- 
able and  interesting  man.  Hunt  also  I  like  much.  My  plans 
are  these  :  on  Monday  next  I  leave  London,  and  shall  spend  a 
small  week  between  the  Cartwrights  and  (perhaps)  the  Grotes, 
after  which  on  or  before  the  12th  I  shall  be  with  you  in  Bath, 
where  I  shall  remain  until  the  i6th,  on  which  day  I  shall  come 
up  by  the  early  train  to  town,  where  I  shall  meet  H.  Greville, 
stay   long  enough    to   get  my   passport   in   order,  and  then  be  off 

double  quick  to  Italy.      I  am  longing  to  get  to  work  again  ;  I   am 

278 


STEINLE   AND   ITALY   AGAIN  279 

doing  nothing  whatever  except  Henry's  dog,  which  takes  up  what 
little  time  I  have.  Will  you  tell  Papa  that  I  went  to  the  shop 
he  recommended,  and  got  a  splendid  Shakespeare  ready  bound 
in  eight  volumes  for  three  guineas  ! 

From  Bath  he  wrote  to  Steinle  : — 

Translation.^ 

9  Circus,  Bath, 

August  2,  1856. 

My  very  dear  Friend, — In  about  ten  days  I  expect,  on  my 
way  to  Italy,  whither  I  go  on  a  short  student  journey,  to  pass 
through  Frankfurt  or  Cologne,  according  as  you  are  in  one  or 
the  other,  exclusively  in  order  to  take  my  dear  master  once 
more  by  the  hand ;  and  if  you  are  at  the  moment  in  Frankfurt, 
I  might  even  spend  two  or  three  days  in  the  old  Bokaga,  and 
even  draw  a  composition  as  in  the  old  times.  Do,  dear  friend, 
send  me  a  line  by  return  of  post  in  order  that  I  may  make 
arrangements. 

The  rest  verbally — I   have  sadly  forgotten  my  German. 

Hoping  to  meet  very  soon,  dear  master. — Think  of  your 
pupil,  Fred  Leighton. 

Translation.^ 

Bath.    9  Circus 

{later). 

My  very  dear  Master, — I  have  just  received  your  dear  lines, 
and  hasten  to  say  that  nothing  could  be  more  delightful  to  me 
than  to  travel  with  you  again,  if  only  for  a  few  days. 

I  had  intended  to  go  via  Milan  for  the  sake  of  quickness,  but 
I  will  go  direct  through  the  Tyrol  to  Venice. 

If  all  goes  well,  I  will  arrive  in  Frankfurt  on  the  23rd  of  this 
month  ;  does  that  fat  in  with  your  plans  ? 

How  delighted  I  am  to  see  you  again,  my  good  Master  ! 

To  our  speedy  meeting ! — Your  grateful  pupil, 

Fred  Leighton. 

Leighton  had  felt  his  failure  keenly,  though,  with  his  usual 
consideration,   he  had  tried  to  lessen   the  disadvantages  of  it 


2  8o  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

in  writing  to  his  mother.  The  friend  who  enjoyed  constant 
intercourse  with  him  at  the  Bagni  de  Lucca  in  1854  wrote 
at  the  time  of  his  death  :  "  Leighton  longed  for  and  desired 
success ;  but  only  in  so  far  as  he  deserved  it.  When  he 
was  sharply  checked  in  his  upward  career,  he  accepted  the 
rebuke  with  humility,  for  he  was  a  modest  man."  Mrs, 
-  Browning  writes  to  Mrs.  Jameson,  May  6,  1896,  from 
A  Paris :     "  Leighton    has    been    cut    up    unmercifully    by    the 

critics,  but  bears  on,  Robert  says,  not  without  courage. 
That  you  should  say  his  picture  looked  well,  was  comfort 
in  the  general  gloom."  Though  those  critics  who  were 
spokesmen  for  the  envious  among  the  artists  seemed  to 
revel  in  Leighton's  disaster,  he  had  many  friends  who  took 
perhaps  a  too  favourable  view  of  the  unfortunate  picture. 
But  neither  excess  of  abusive  ridicule,  nor  a  too  favourable 
view  taken  by  intimate  friends,  could  unduly  influence 
Leighton  himself — Leighton  the  actualist.  He  had  a  firm  faith 
that  in  the  actual  it  is  man's  lot  to  find  the  true  and  the 
really  helpful.  These  words  of  his  master,  Steinle's,  written 
to  him  in  1853,  doubtless  recurred  to  him,  and  he  felt  he 
must  return  to  the  Eternal  City  to  be  reinspired  after  his 
fall  :— 

I  would  rather  remember  that  you  will  receive  these  lines 
in  the  Eternal  City,  that  you  are  with  our  friend  Rico,  and 
that  you  are  settling  to  work  with  renewed  vitality  and  a 
pocketful  of  studies.  In  Cornelius,  besides  much  that  is 
stubborn,  you  will  find  so  much  that  is  admirable,  and  so 
much  truly  artistic  greatness,  that  you  will  soon  love  him, 
for  he  is  also  of  a  truly  childlike  disposition,  and  much  too 
good  for  Berlin,  for  which  reason  he  has  left  the  place.  You 
lucky  men  who  have  crossed  the  Tiber — the  Vatican  of  St. 
Peter,  the  Courts  of  St.  Onofrio,  the  Villa  Pamfili — where  in 
the  world  is  there  anything  like  them  ?  Where  is  there  a  town 
in  which  every  stone  has  greater,  more  splendid  things  to  tell  us 


STEINLE   AND    ITALY   AGAIN  281 

of  every  period  ?  Where  is  there  a  place  where  the  artist  could 
soar  higher  than  in  Rome  ?  Forget  that  you  are  practically  in 
an  island,  and  study  your  Rome  ;  it  is  invaluable  for  one's  whole 
life,  which  is  otherwise  so  commonplace  and  so  small.  Your 
youth  and  courage — "the  sparrow  among  the  beans"  ("Triton 
among  the  minnows") — need  not  be  injured  thereby;  but,  dear 
friend,  you  must  become  a  man,  and  there  is  nothing  great  in 
the  world  that  has  been  achieved  except  by  taking  pains.  Addio, 
carissimo  ;  greet  Rico  and  the  friends  most  heartily.  My  wife 
reciprocates  your  friendly  greetings,  and  I  remain,  your  devoted 
friend,  Steinle. 

He    travelled    there   via    Frankfort    to    see    Steinle,    with 
whom    he   went    to    Meran,   thence  to  Venice   and   Florence, 

then  on  to  Rome. 

Frankfurt,  Brauseler  Hof, 
August  24. 

Dearest  Mamma, — Being  at  last  in  Frankfurt,  and  having 
seen  Steinle  and  his  works,  and,  en  revanche,  shown  him  mine, 
I  sit  down  to  write  to  you.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  be  glad  to 
hear  that  he  was  much  pleased  with  my  drawings,  that  he  liked 
the  compositions,  and  what  is  more,  gave  me  good  advice  about 
them.  He  also  suggested  to  me  to  paint  the  little  "Venus"  rising 
out  of  the  sea  (from  Anacreon),  of  which  I  have  already  made 
a  sketch.  My  studies  he  seemed  to  think  excellent  ;  I  gave  him 
three  of  them  ;  I  was  so  charmed  to  see  his  dear  face  again, 
looking  just  the  same  as  he  always  did,  and  when  he  showed 
me  what  he  had  been  doing,  I  fairly  set  up  the  pipes.  He  took 
me  in  the  afternoon  to  the  Guaitas,  who  have  a  series  of  drawings 
by  him  from  Clemens  Brentano's  poems  ;  they  are  perfectly 
exquisite  ;  the  richness  and  variety  of  his  imagination  is  some- 
thing marvellous.  Mr.  Guaita,  who  is  about  to  have  them 
photographed  for  his  friends,  has  kindly  promised  me  a  copy. 
To-morrow  morning  I  am  off  for  the  Lake  of  Constance,  whence 
through  the  Finstermiinz  to  Meran,  where  I  and  Steinle  part, 
though  not  till  I  have  stayed  there  two  or  three  days.  To-day 
I  shall  go  to  Mr.  Bolton  and  to  Madame  Beving  to  deliver  your 
letter.       Altogether    Frankfurt    has    improved    in    appearance  ;     it 


282  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

looks  much  more  like  a  capital  than  it  did  formerly  ;  new  shops 
have  sprung  up,  old  ones  are  improved,  and  the  whole  town 
looks  gay  and  busy  ;  all  this  does  not  prevent  it  from  being 
highly  antipathetic  to  me,  which  is,  I  daresay,  in  some  measure 
-f  attributable  to  the  hideous  jargon  that  one  hears  wherever  one 
turns.  I  have  seen  Gogel  and  Koch,  who  were  both  very  civil, 
the  former  asking  me  to  dine  with  him,  which,  however,  I  could 
not  do,  being  already  engaged  to  Steinle.  And  you,  dearest 
Mamma,  how  are  you  ?  and  Papa  and  the  girls  ?  Tell  me  all 
about  them — write  Venice  p.  restante. 

God  bless  you,  dear   Mamma.      Remember  the  boy. 

I    have  had  such   a   letter  from   Henry  (Mr.   Henry  Greville)  ; 

there   never   was  anything   like   the   tenderness   of    it — you   would 

have  been  just  enchanted. 

Venice,  September  6. 

I  believe  I  told  you  in  my  last  letter  that  I  was  going 
to  spend  a  few  days  at  Meran  with  Steinle.  Now  when  I 
got  there  I  found  the  place  so  beautiful  and  so  healthy,  and 
so  rich  in  subjects  for  "my  pencil,"  that  I  stayed  a  week, 
and  this  accounts  for  my  being  rather  behindhand  with  this 
letter. 

Steinle  and  I  had  rooms  at  a  sort  of  hydropathic  boarding- 
house,  with  splendid  accommodation  for  bathing  in  the  coldest 
possible  mountain  water,  a  convenience  of  which  I  availed  myself 
daily  to  my  great  enjoyment. 

I  lived  comme  les  poules.  I  was  up  at  daybreak  and  a  good 
bit  before  the  sun  (who  takes  a  long  time  before  he  gets  his  nose 
into  a  valley)  and  went  to  bed  very  shortly  after  sunset  ;  I 
worked  and  walked  and  ate  and  slept,  that  was  my  simple  bill 
of  fare.  My  good  Steinle  and  myself  got  on,  as  of  course, 
{^  capitally.  He  is  most  affectionate  and  kind,  and  I  have  derived 
a  good  deal  of  artistic  advantage  from  his  intercourse  even  in 
that  short  time. 

By -the -bye,  before  I  left  Frankfurt  I  received  through  H. 
Greville  a  letter  from  Mr.  Harrison,  secretary  to  Col.  Phipps,  ask- 
ing me  to  go  to  the  Palace  to  look  at  the  canvas  of  the  "  Cimabue," 
which   appeared   to   be   defective  in   some   parts  ;  though  what  on 


STEINLE    AND    ITALY    AGAIN  283 

earth  can  be  the  matter  with  it  I  don't  know  ;  at  the  same  time 
I  got  another  saying,  that  as  I  was  not  in  England,  there  would 
be  no  necessity  for  me  to  make  a  special  journey  to  England  on 
that  account,  and  merely  wishing  to  know  when  I  expected  to 
return.  I  sent  an  appropriate  answer,  which  I  submitted  to  Henry 
Greville,  and  now  am  waiting  for  further  instructions  from  Harrison 
here  in  Venice. 

Writing  of  his  delight  in  being  again  in  Italy  he  adds  : — 

How  I  revelled  in  the  first  really  Italian  bit,  the  lake  of 
Lugano  !  What  an  exquisite  little  picture  it  is  with  its  villas  and 
terraces,  its  cypresses  and  its  oleanders,  and  the  little  town  itself 
too !  stretching  its  cool  arcades  along  the  blue  margin  of  the 
water  ;  a  lovely  drive  along  the  lake  took  me  to  that  of  Como, 
and  from  thence  I  went  by  rail  to  Milan  ;  stayed  a  day,  went  to 
the  Scala,  performance  so  bad  I  was  obliged  to  leave  the  house, 
and  now  I  am  for  a  week  in  Venice  gliding  along  in  lazy  gondolas, 
winking  up  at  grey  palaces  and  glittering  domes.  I  suppose  you 
won't  leave  Italy  this  time  without  seeing  Venice  once  more,  and 
feeding  your  eyes  again  on  Titian  and  Bonifazio,  Veronese  and 
Tintoretto.  By-the-bye,  I  am  doing  a  sketch  from  a  superb 
Bonifazio  in  the  Academy  here  ;  yesterday  I  painted  hard  for  six 
hours,  so  you  see  it  is  not  all  boats,  and  now  I  must  close.  I 
will  write  to  you  again  from  Florence,  and  I  hope  with  a  better 
pen.  God  bless  you.  Mammy,  give  my  love  to  all  from  your 
loving  boy. 

To  his  father  Leighton  writes  : — 

Florence,  Hotel  du  Nord, 
i^th  September  1856. 

About  my  pictures^  I  have  heard  (for  Henry  makes  the 
Ellesmeres  keep  him  au  courant,  which  of  course  is  very  con- 
venient for  me)  that  they  are  pretty  well  hung,  but  that  the 
"Romeo"  is  not  seen  very  well  owing  to  a  defect  in  the  lightmg 

1  "Romeo,"  "Pan,"  and  "Venus,"  being  then  exhibited  at   the  yearly  autumn 
Exhibition  at  Manchester. 


2  84  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

of  the  room.  Lady  E.  said  the  "  Pan  "  and  "  Venus  "  seemed  to 
be  very  well  painted,  or  something,  but  Lord  Brackley  thought 
them  improper  !  Henry,  of  course,  was  furious  at  their  prudish- 
ness.  I  don't  for  the  hfe  of  me  know  where  to  have  them 
sent  to,  nor  can  I  know  for  the  next  three  weeks  about,  as  I 
must  write  to  consult  Henry  and  get  his  answer  and  then  write 
to  you,  but  surely  there  is  time.  You  have,  of  course,  received 
the  letter  in  which  I  tell  you  that  I  must  go  to  England  at  the 
beginning  of  November  to  see  about  my  picture,  but  you  need 
not  be  afraid  about  my  having  to  do  it  over  again  ;  that  would 
be  a  good  joke  ;  no  artist  ever  yet  was  responsible  /(respectively 
for  what  might  happen  to  his  picture  ;  but  it  will  be  a  frightful 
bore  in  the  expense  line  coming  back  from  Italy  fairly  swept  out 
as  I  shall  be.  Were  you  so  kind  as  to  pay  the  rent  for  me  as 
I   asked  you  ? 

Translation.^ 

Florence,  28/^  September. 

My  very  dear  Friend,— Well  may  you  say  that  the  Meran 
post  is  tardy,  for  I  only  received  your  dear  letter  of  the  13th 
three  days  ago.  Meanwhile  you  have  probably  long  since 
received  mine,  in  which  I  thanked  you  heartily  for  the  beautiful 
coat  received  in  Venice. 

I  have  already  stayed  here  in  Florence  eight  days,  and 
though  I  have  not  worked  very  arduously,  I  have  yet  thoroughly 
enjoyed  myself,  and  also,  I  hope,  learned  something  from  the 
lovely  things  that  I  am  seeing  again  here ;  meanwhile  there 
remains  much  for  me  to  see  in  the  two  days  that  I  have  still 
to  stay,  amongst  others  the  Capella  of  Benozzo  Gozzoli  in  the 
Palazzo  Riccardi,  a  work  which  I  love  excessively.  To  see  the 
old  Florentine  school  again  is  a  thing  which  always  enchants 
me  anew,  for  one  can  never  be  sated  with  seeing  the  noble 
sweetness,  the  childlike  simplicity,  allied  with  high  manly  feeling, 
which  breathes  in  it.  But  I  speak  to  you  of  plain  things  which 
you  know  far  better  than  I.  I  am  quite  eager  to  see  the  new 
drawings  at  Fabiola,  and  I  am  much  excited  about  those  at 
Cologne  ;  but  the  gods  alone  know  when   I   shall  see  them. 

On   Wednesday    I    go   to    Rome,   where    I    hope   to    see    Rico  ; 


« V. 


:Ls^,t^mi  '^  ^^i*j'v^  J 


V  ■«?'  -^ 


l^liiVV^'        .^-f.^ 


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£\>, 


CA*  D*ORO,  VENICE.     WATER  COLOUR.     1856 


STEINLE   AND    ITALY   AGAIN  285 

if  only  I  could  take  you  with  me,  dear  master  !  Meanwhile  I 
beg  you  to  remember  me  most  kindly  to  Madame  Steinle,  and 
yourself  believe   in  the   love  of  your  grateful  pupil, 

Fred  Leighton. 

p,S. — My  stay  in  Rome  will  (alas  !)  only  be  very  short,  for 
I  am  unexpectedly  obliged  to  go  soon  to  London,  confound 
it  ! — instead  of  a   month,  ten   days  !     Povero  me  ! 

Florence,  .11//;  October  1856. 
Dearest  Mammy, — I  wonder  whether  you  are  coming  to 
Florence,  and,  if  so,  how  long  you  are  going  to  stay.  I  suppose 
you  will  go  to  the  Hotel  du  Nord  as  in  old  times — ^I  go  there 
invariably,  and  write  now  from  my  own  particular  room.  I 
wrote  to  you  last  from  Venice,  where  I  spent  ten  days  in  a 
very  satisfactory  manner  between  work  and  fldticrie  of  an  artistic 
description— indeed  1  fldned  this  time  with  more  advantage  than 
hitherto,  for  I  went  more  closely  than  I  had  yet  done  into  the 
architecture  of  Venice,  studying  the  different  masters,  their 
different  styles  and  relative  merit ;  I  need  not  say  that  I  found 
this  extremely  interesting.  Fred  Cockerell,  a  young  architect 
friend  of  mine,  was  there  with  Villers  Lister,  another  very  nice 
boy,  a  London  acquaintance  of  mine.  We  were  a  great  deal 
together,  and  they  accompanied  me  to  Padua,  where  I  left  them 
doing  Giotto,  which  I  would  most  willingly  have  done  myself  if  I 
had  not  been  hard  pressed  for  time.  In  the  painting  line  I  only 
made  one  sketch,  a  Bonifazio  of  the  first  water,  which  will  figure 
very  satisfactorily  on  my  studio  wall  ;  it  took  me  a  good  deal  of 
time,  and  is  on  the  whole,  I  think,  very  fair.  In  Florence  I  have 
had  one  or  two  great  disappointments  which  have  rather  diminished 
my  enjoyment  of  this  loveliest  place.  I  expected  confidently  to 
find  both  Browning  and  his  wife  and  Lyons.  Neither  of  them 
are  here,  the  former  not  having  yet  returned  from  the  North, 
and  the  latter  having  been  called  home  to  see  his  father,  who 
is  very  ailing.  I  have  seen  the  Fenzis,  who  received  me  with 
their  wonted  cordiality,  and  am  going  to-day  to  call  on  the 
Maquays.  I  am  here  too  short  a  time  to  work,  beyond  a  pencil 
sketch    or     two,    and     am    off    for    dear    old     Rome     on     Friday 


286  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

morning  as  ever  is.  I  shall  stay  there  till  I  find  a  studio, 
which  I  hope  won't  be  long,  and  shall  then  rush  off  to  Cervara 
in  the  mountains  to  paint. 

Good-bye,  Mammikins.     Give  my  best  love  to  all,  and  believe 
me  your  loving  boy,  FRED. 

In  Rome  Leighton  received  the  following  from  his  friend 
Mr.  Cartwright : — 

Aynhoe,  September  26,  1856. 
My  dear  Leighton, — Truly  was  I  delighted  with  your  letter, 
so  that  in  spite  of  my  "  nature  to  "  I  gulped  my  huff,  though  I  was 
(2.  like y to  choke;  but  self-interest  is  a  wonderful  smoothener,  and 
as  I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me  I  mean  to  behave  myself. 
Leighton,  by  the  squints  which  you  shot  over  my  park  from 
your  outspread  umbrella,  by  those  you  are  hereafter  to  shoot,  by 
Tokay  cup  and  venison  hash — by  anything  you  like,  I  want  you  to 
belumber  yourself  with  some  ripe  stone  pinecones,  and  a  hundred  cork 
acorns.  I  have  found  a  true  legitimate  stone  pine  about  forty  to 
fifty  feet  high  on  my  property,  and  as  for  the  cork  trees  you  have 
seen  the  one  in  my  garden,  and  therefore  I  do  not  see  why  I  should 
not  have  a  lot  in  the  park.  They  can  only  be  raised  from  acorns. 
Now,  if  you  could  take  steps  to  get  me  these  things — God  !  I  don't 
know  what  1  would  not  do  for  you,  and  how  would  we  enjoy  it  in 
years  to  come  to  watch  the  growth  of  our  trees.  It  is  a  national 
object.  You  may  have  some  difficulty  in  getting  the  acorns  and 
cones  ;  Pantaleone  or  Erhardt  might  perhaps  mention  to  you  some 
gardener  who  would  procure  them.  You  know  probably  the  trees 
would  get  to  be  called  L.  pines  and  Leighton  oaks,  which  is  one 
way  to  immortality  if  Orpheus  and  Eurydices  won't  help  you.  I 
wrote  to  Mason  about  the  pines  ;  by  all  means  make  him  answer, 
the  exertion  will  do  him  good,  he  wants  exercise,  and  therefore  don't 
get  on  with  his  work.  My  God  !  when  I  came  in  at  twelve  to-day 
he  was  not  up  ! 

How  I  envy  you  at  Rome  when  I  think  of  it  ;   how  would   I 

enjoy  being  there,  and  yet  I  can't  help  thinking  of  's  death  at 

the  same  time.  Remember  me  to  little  Cornhill  and  every  Roman 
who  remembers  me.  Write  Poste  Restante,  Paris.  I  go  there,  I 
believe,  next  week,  but  where  I  shall  be  the  winter ?     Forster 


STEINLE    AND    ITALY    AGAIN  287 

is  in  the  Westminster — be  d d  to  it  for  stale  wine  that  it  is. 

As  for  Mason,  make  him  write,  and  believe  me,  yours  affectionately, 

w.  c.  c. 

Rome,  October  14,  1856. 

Dearest  Mamma, — I  have  delayed  writing  to  you  for  a  few 
days  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  letter  from  you  in  answer  to  my 
last  ;  however,  as  the  posts  here  are  frightfully  irregular,  and 
I  think  it  very  possible  your  answer  may  have  been  lost,  I  wait 
no  longer.  I  enclose  two  little  criticisms  on  my  "  Romeo  "  and 
"  Venus,"  which  will  I  think  please  Papa  and  you,  and  which  were 
sent    me    through    Mrs.   Sartoris    by    Henry    Greville.^     There    is, 

1  "368.  From  Keats'  Ode  to  Pan,  in  the  '■  Endymion'' :  F.  Leighton. — Flesh 
painting  is  the  grand  test.  With  the  majority  of  artists  the  attempt  results  in  a 
something  very  much  resembling  tinted  marble.  Not  so  Mr.  Leighton.  This 
enchanting  creation  of  his  mind  glows  with  the  rich  warm  hues  of  life  ;  and  the 
sweeping  outline  which  gives  such  beauty  to  the  female  form  is  preserved  with 
subdued  definiteness.     The  background  is  a  fine  piece  of  mellow  autumnal  tinting. 

"  The  Royal  Institution. — In  the  second  room  will  be  found  one  of  the  very 
best,  if  not  the  best  picture  in  the  exhibition,  No.  183,  'Reconciliation  of  the 
Montagues  and  Capulets,'  by  F.  Leighton.  Whatever  its  other  merits  or  faults 
may  be,  it  tells  the  sad  story  clearly  and  forcibly.  The  scene  is  '  the  tomb  of  all 
the  Capulets,'  and  the  moment  chosen  by  the  artist  is  when  the  heads  of  the  rival 
houses,  standing  by  the  dead  bodies  of  those  in  whom  all  their  hopes  had  been 
centred,  agree  to  lay  by  their  ancient  feuds,  and  clasp  their  hands  in  sign  of  future 
friendship. 

"  '  Capulet — O  brother  Montague,  give  me  thy  hand : 

This  is  my  daughter's  jointure,  for  no  more 

Can  I  demand. 
Montague — But  I  can  give  thee  more  : 

For  I  will  raise  her  statue  in  pure  gold  : 

That  while  Verona  by  that  name  is  known 

There  shall  no  figure  at  such  rate  be  set, 

As  that  of  true  and  faithful  Juliet.' 

In  the  foreground  are  the  bodies  of  the  lovers,  placed  on  a  bier.  Juliet  has  thrown 
herself  upon  the  body  of  Romeo,  her  hands  clasped  around  his  neck,  and  her 
cheek  touching  his.  In  that  position,  typical  of  her  undying  love,  the  fatal  potion 
has  done  its  work.  Lady  Capulet,  in  a  paroxysm  of  maternal  grief,  has  thrown 
herself  on  her  knees  at  the  foot  of  the  bier  ;  behind  her  is  the  Friar.  Opposite 
the  spectator  are  old  Capulet  and  Montague,  their  aged  forms  bowed  with  grief, 
in  the  act  of  reconciliation.  These  are  the  principal  figures.  The  Prince,  atten- 
dants,  &c.,    fill    up,    without    crowding,   the   picture.      The   gloom    of   the   ancient 


288  THE   LIFE    OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 

however,  not  the  remotest  chance  of  my  selHng  them  at  Man- 
chester, and  I  am  considering  where  to  show  them  next.  I  am 
trying  here  in   Rome  (where   I   shall  stay  till  the  end  of  October) 

monument  is  capitally  rendered,  the  colouring  is  harmonious,  and  the  disposition 
of  the  figures  careful  and  dramatic.  The  artist  has  admirably  discriminated  the 
characters  of  the  two  aged  noblemen.  Readers  of  Shakespeare  will  not  need  to 
be  reminded  of  the  distinction  which  the  dramatist  has  made  between  the  two. 
Montague  appears  only  in  the  first  and  last  acts,  but  displays  great  resolution, 
accompanied  by  a  noble  moderation,  in  the  brawl  commenced  by  the  retainers 
of  each  of  the  houses.  The  language  put  into  his  mouth  is  noble  and  poetical, 
especially  in  concluding  his  account  of  the  black  and  portentous  humour  which  had 
overtaken  his  son. 

"  '  But  he,  his  own  affection's  counsellor, 
Is  to  himself, — I  will  not  say — how  true, — 
But  to  himself  so  secret  and  so  close, 
So  far  from  sounding  and  discovery 
As  is  the  bud,  bit  with  an  envious  worm, 
Ere  he  can  spread  his  sweet  leaves  to  the  air, 
Or  dedicate  his  beauty  to  the  sun.' 

No  such  language  as  this  is  ever  given  to  old  Capulet.  On  the  contrary,  he  is 
fussy,  shallow,  and  pretentious.  Even  the  Nurse  snubs  him.  In  the  first  act  he 
rushes  out  frantically  calling  for  his  sword,  to  which  Lady  Capulet  replies — 

"  'A  crutch,  a  crutch  ! — why  call  you  for  a  sword?' 

And  the  Nurse  on  another  occasion  says — 

"  '  Go,  go,  you  cot  quean,  go. 

Get  you  to  bed  ;  faith  you  will  be  sick  to-morrow 
For  this  night's  watching.' 

The  artist  has  finely  distinguished  the  two  men  ;  there  is  no  mistaking  them.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  we  may  '  hint  a  fall '  or  two,  we  should  say,  that  the  faces  of  the 
lovers  are  too  livid  and  corpse-like.  They  are  but  newly  dead,  and  the  artist 
would  have  been  truer  to  nature  and  increased  the  beauty  of  his  picture  if  he  had 
allowed  some  of  the  beauty  of  life  to  linger  around  them.  The  attitude  of  the 
Friar,  too,  with  elevated  arms  and  appalled  look,  is  not  in  harmony  with  the  grand 
composure  of  his  demeanour  at  all  other  times,  the  noble  motives  from  which  he 
had  acted,  and  that  sanctity  of  character  which  induces  the  Prince  to  say  to  him, 
after  his  explanatorj'  speech — 

"  '  We  still  have  known  thee  for  a  holy  man.' 

With  all  drawbacks,  however,  this  is  a  noble  picture  ;  and  if  our  readers  will 
turn  to  the  scene  in  the  play  and  refresh  their  memories  before  going  to  the 
Institution,  they  will,  we  think,  agree  with  us  in  ranking  it  as  a  successful  Shake- 
sperian  illustration — high  praise,  but  deserved." 


STEINLE   AND    ITALY   AGAIN  289 

to  make  up  by  rigid  economy  for  the  expense  inevitably  incurred 
by  living  at  inns  all  the  way  here.  I  can't  tell  you  what  a 
delight  it  was  to  me  to  see  this  dear  old  place  again.  Everything 
is  so  unaltered  since  I  left  it,  that  I  felt  on  returning  exactly  as 
if  I  was  coming  home  from  a  drive  instead  of  a  lengthened 
absence.  The  frescoes  which  I  knew  so  well  were  as  new  to  me 
again  from  their  colossal  grandeur,  and  I  wished  I  could  spend 
a  month  or  so  exclusively  copying  in  the  Sixtina.  My  picture, 
though  not  well  seen,  is  not  particularly  badly  Jmngy  but  it  can 
only  be  seen  from  a  distance,  so  that  the  expressions  are  almost 
entirely  lost  ;  it  does  not  look  so  well  as  in  my  studio.  The 
Pre-Raphaelites  are  very  striking,  full  of  talent  and  industry,  but 
unpleasant  to  the  eye.  Meanwhile  they  have  the  day.  Colnaghi 
told  me  that  he  thought  he  could  sell  ''  Romeo "  if  I  made  the 
price  four  hundred,  and  said  I  could  do  it  without  derogating,  as 
it  went  through  his,  a  dealer's,  hands.  I  consulted  Henry  and 
Mrs.  S.,  who  strongly  advised  me  to  follow  his  advice.  I  have 
done  so.  May  it  bring  me  luck.  If  the  remarks  you  quote,  dear 
Mamma,  are  meant  to  apply  to  my  relation  with  Mrs.  Sartoris, 
I  can  only  say,  that  as  I  have  derived  from  her  more  moral 
improvement  and  refinement  (you  know  it),  and  from  her  circle 
more  intellectual  advantage  than  from  all  my  other  acquaintances 
put  together  twice  over,  I  can't  join  with  Mrs.  Whatshername 
in  apprehending  "  a  great  number  of  inconveniences." 

In  a  later  letter  Leiofhton  announces  the  sale  of  the 
"  Romeo  "  picture  : — 

The  "  Romeo,"  which  had  the  best  place  in  the  Exhibition, 
has  been  sold  for  ;^40o,  which  to  me  represents  £360  after 
deduction  of  percentage.  They  have  in  a  most  slovenly  way  sold 
my  picture  for  pounds  though  marked  guineas,  they  want  to  know 
if  I  claimed  the  difference  ;  as  they  have  behaved  without  suffi- 
cient e'gard  about  other  things  also,  I  have  directed  the  secretary 
in  England  to  say  that  I  should  like  the  error  to  be  rectified, 
though  I  do  not  wish  the  sale  to  be  cancelled  on  that  account 
if  it  be  too  late.  I  don't  want  to  miss  the  money  of  course,  but 
I  have  no  idea  of  such  negligence  on  their  part. 

VOL,  I.  T 


290  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

You  see,  dear  Mamma,  that  my  little  pension  to  Lud  has 
become,  for  this  year  at  least,  so  easy  that  I  have  scarcely  any 
merit  left. 

19  Queen  Street,  Mayfair. 

Dearest  Mamma, — Having  arrived  in  London,  and  been  to 
the  Palace  to  see  my  picture,  I  hasten  both  to  tell  you  the 
result  of  my  inspection  and  to  answer  your  very  kind  letter  to 
Paris  which,  like  an  ass  that  I  am,  I  have  neglected  to  bring  with 
me.  The  damage  to  my  picture  is  trifling  and  easily  remediable, 
having  arisen  in  no  way  from  the  precarious  nature  of  paint  or 
varnish,  but  from  a  faulty  canvas,  and  probable  rough  usage 
in  moving.  I  shall  set  all  right  in  a  few  days  ;  the  holes  or  raw 
places  are  in  the  sky,  and  luckily  not  near  the  faces.  I  have  not 
yet  seen  Colonel  Phipps,  and  am  waiting  for  further  instructions  ; 
the  Court   I   shall  of  course  not  see,  as  it  is  at  Windsor. 

I  don't  remember  whether  I  told  you  that  1  got  an  invitation 
from  Manchester  to  exhibit  next  spring,  and  having  nothing  to 
send  but  "  Cimabue,"  have  respectfully  applied  to  the  Queen 
through   Colonel   Phipps  to  obtain  it  of  her  for  that  occasion. 

1  am  truly  sorry  not  to  see  you  all,  but  as  you  say,  I  can't 
afford  it  ;  indeed,  I  write  now  partly  to  ask  Papa  to  send  me  some 
money,  the  ^50  he  gave  me  in  the  middle  of  August  when  I 
started  are  not  only  gone,  but  scarcely  took  me  back  to  Paris,  and 
but  for  Petre,  whom  I  met  coming  back  from  Naples,  and  who 
lent  me  a  trifle  with  most  friendly  alacrity,  I  should  have  been 
f-  frightfully  pinched  ;\the  first  part  of  my  journey  being  all  travelling, 
and  hotel  life  was  very  dear.  In  Rome,  however,  I  lived  for 
nothing,  and  sailed  from  Civita  Vecchia  to  Marseilles  "  before  the 
mast,"  a  thing  I  will  never  do  again  if  I  can  help  it,  but  which 
enabled  me  just  to  get  home  to  Paris  within  a  few  francs  of  the 
^50.  Meanwhile  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  I  never  spent 
three  months  more  profitably  or  more  agreeably.  I  suppose  Papa 
kindly  paid  my  last  quarter  as  I  asked  him,  but  not  having  received 
your  letter  I  don't  in  reality  know. 

P.  Delaroche  is  dead,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  Going  through  Paris 
I  went  to  see  Rob.  Fleury,  who  with  characteristic  kindness  put 
me  up  to  several  dodges  in  picture-restoring  with  a  reference  to 
"  Cimabue  " — invaluable  information. 


STEINLE   AND    ITALY    AGAIN  291 

After  doing  what  was  required  to  the  Buckingham  Palace 
picture,  Leighton  returned  to  Paris,  where  he  wrote  the 
following  to  Steinle: — 

Translation.^ 

21  Rue  Pigale,  ist  December. 

Dear  Friend  and  Master, — I  read  with  real  distress  the 
sad  news  of  your  severe  loss,  but  sincere  and  deep  as  is  my 
sympathy,  I  pass  on  in  silence,  for  in  such  an  hour  of  trial 
there  is  but  one  comfort  for  you,  and  that  not  from  man. 

I  should  no  doubt  have  come  back  to  you  from  Rome  in 
the  beginning  of  October,  but  I  had  to  go  to  England,  where  I 
spent  three  weeks,  and  am  consequently  now  just  established 
again  in  Paris.  My  Italian  journey  afforded  me  in  every  way 
the  greatest  pleasure  and  edification,  and  I  seem  now  for  the 
first  to  have  grasped  the  greatness  of  the  Campagna  and  the 
giant  loftiness  of  Michael  Angelo  ;  still  the  dear  old  town,  now 
as  ever,  is  quite  unchanged.  The  good  Cornelius  is  so  cheerful 
and  friendly  that  it  is  a  real  pleasure  ;  he  has  finished  some 
works  which  have  much  beauty  in  the  design,  but,  quite  in  con- 
fidence, they  are  nevertheless  a  trifle  "  solite  cose,"  and  much 
too  weakly  drawn:  from  a  man  who  makes  claims  to  style,  one 
expects  something  more  of  solidity.  Cornelius  is  a  richly  and 
powerfully  endowed  man,  but  he  does  the  young  generation  no 
good  ;  if  young  people  would  only  look  at  work  of  Michael 
Angelo's !  I  except  the  sculptor  Willig,  he  is  a  famous  fellow, 
and  also  an  agreeable  man.  I  was  glad  to  meet  Gamba  again, 
but  unfortunately   I  did  not  see  any  work  of  his. 

Dear  Friend,  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts  I  could  nowhere  find 
the  right  garment  for  your  composition,  and  learnt  only  after 
a  long  search  what  is  properly  the  official  dress ;  I  learnt  at 
last  from  the  custodian  of  the  Sixtina,  who  inquired  from  the 
head  "  Ceremoniere,"  that  the  cardinal  in  these  days  wears  the 
Cappa    Magna   pavonazza,    not    the    red}      The    costume    therefore 

1  Among  the  drawings  sold  by  the  Fine  Art  Society  in  1897  was  a  very  striking 
and  interesting  sketch  in  water-colour  by  Steinle.  The  subject  was  a  peasant  con- 
fessing to  a  Cardinal.  May  be  it  was  the  sketch  for  this  picture  for  which  Steinle 
asked  Leighton  to  help  him  respecting  the  cardinal's  costume. 


292  THE    LIFE    OF    LORD    LEIGHTON 

is :  purple  undergarment,  lace  shirt  (rochetto),  cappa  magna  of 
violet  cloth  (those  in  the  Charwache  will  wear  no  silk),  black 
shoes,  four-cornered  hood,  and  gloves  with  the  ring  ;  I  enclose 
a  drawing  of  the  real  confessional  in  St.  Peter's  Church  ;  I  hope 
it  may  be  of  use  to  you.  Dear  master,  how  can  you  possibly 
excuse  yourself  for  closing  your  letter  with  a  word  of  true  and 
wise  advice !  You  know  that  I  owe  to  you,  and  to  no  one 
else,  the  whole  of  my  serious  education,  and  am  proud  of  it. 

If  you  do  not  get  the  work  at  Cologne,  it  will  be  a  downright 
infamy  and  a  dirtiness  without  parallel ;  but  I  hope  for  the  best. 

How   I   should  like  to  see  your  "  Marriage  at  Cana." 

Keep  in  remembrance  your  loving  pupil, 

Fred   Leighton. 

Translatt07i.^ 

Satttrday,  c)ih  May  1857. 

My  dear  Friend  and  Master, — Your  letter,  just  received,, 
has  given  me  intense  pleasure.  Your  constant  and  affectionate 
remembrance  of  a  pupil  who  is  under  so  many  obligations  to 
you,  rejoices  my  heart.  On  this  occasion,  however,  your  letter 
was  particularly  welcome,  because  I  had  already  begun  to  worry 
myself  a  little  about  your  long  silence,  and  was  almost  afraid 
you  might  imagine  that  I  had  not  exerted  myself  sufficiently  in 
the  matter  of  your  cardinal. 

But  first  of  all  I  offer  my  best  congratulations  on  the  com- 
pletion of  the  Cologne  affair,  and  on  the  splendid  field  which  is 
offered  to  you  also  in  Munster.  At  last  you  have  work  which 
is  worthy  of  your  abilities  and  your  efforts,  and  will  give  them 
scope.  With  such  employment  I  must  not  regret  that  I  shall 
not  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again  in  Paris.  That  I 
have  not  seen  the  "  Marriage  of  Cana "  is,  I  candidly  confess,  a 
source  of  regret  to  me ;  I  know  the  design  of  the  composition, 
and  should  have  liked  extremely  to  have  seen  how  it  has  turned 
f^     out.     When  shall   I   see  one  of  your  works  again  ? 

What  shall  I  tell  you  about  myself,  my  dear  friend?  I  am 
getting  on  with  my  pictures,  and  have  now  got  them  all 
three  into  a  fairly  forward  state  of  wW^r- painting  ;  com- 
pletion, however,  will  only  be  reached  in  the  course  of  next 
winter,  for   I    intend   to  execute  them  with    minute  care.      I  have; 


STEINLE    AND    ITALY    AGAIN  293 

simplified  my  method  of  painting,  and  foresworn  all  tricks.  I 
endeavour  to  advance  from  the  beginning  as  much  as  possible, 
and  equally  try  to  mix  the  right  tint,  and  slowly  and  care- 
fully to  put  it  on  the  right  spot,  and  always  with  the  model 
before  me ;  what  does  not  exactly  suit  has  to  be  adapted  ; 
one  can  derive  benefit  from  every  head.  Schwind  says  that  he 
cannot  work  from  models,  they  worry  him  !  a  splendid  teacher 
for  his  pupils  !  nature  worries  every  one  at  first,  but  one  must 
so  discipline  oneself  that,  instead  of  checking  and  hindering,  she 
shall  illuminate  and  help,  and  solve  all  doubts.  Has  Schwind, 
with  his  splendid  and  varied  gifts,  ever  been  able  to  model  a 
head  with  a  brush  ?  Those  who  place  the  brush  behind  the 
pencil,  under  the  pretence  that  form  is  before  all  things,  make  a  very 
great  mistake.  Form  is  certainly  ALL  important;  one  cannot  study 
it  enough  ;  but  the  greater  part  of  form  falls  within  the  province 
of  the  tabooed  brush.  The  everlasting  hobby  of  contour  (which 
belongs  to  the  drawing  material)  is  first  the  place  where  the  form 
comes  in  ;  what,  however,  reveals  true  knowledge  of  form,  is  a 
powerful,  organic,  refined  finish  of  modelling,  full  of  feeling  and 
knowledge — and  that  is  the  affair  of  the  brush  {Pinsel). 

You  see  I  have  again  begun  discoursing,  my  dear  Master  ; 
you  must  excuse  all  this  silly  talk,  and  ascribe  it  to  the  pleasure 
I  feel  whenever  I  enjoy  intercourse  with  you,  even  if  only  by 
letter.      How  much  we  have  already  talked  over  together  ! 

And  now  adieu,  dear  Friend.  Rest  assured  that  you  have 
not  wasted  your  affection  on  an  ungrateful  man,  and  keep  always 
in  remembrance — Your  faithful  pupil,  Leighton. 

Please  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife. 
I   do  not  know  of  any  work  of  mine  that  has  appeared  in  an 
illustrated  paper — Louie  has  been  dreaming. 

Three  interesting  letters  to  Steinle  belong  to  the  fol- 
lowing year.  In  the  second  Leighton  states  that  he  is 
about  to  start  for  Algiers.  After  his  arrival  there  he  writes 
to  his  mother  describing  the  place.  Notwithstanding  the 
difficulty  he  found   in   drawing  the   natives   of  Algiers,   owing 


294  THE   LIFE   OF    LORD   LETGHTON 

to  their  shyness  and  to  their  prejudices,  Leighton  succeeded 
while  there  in  making  drawings  which  rank  among  his  very- 
best  ;  in  fact,  in  certain  quaHties  no  others  he  ever  drew 
can  be  said  to  equal  them.  To  quote  Mr.  Pepys  Cockerell 
{Nineteenth  Century,   November   1896): — 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  more  perfect  drawings,  better 
defined  or  more  entirely  realised,  than  these  studies  of  heads 
of  Moors,  camels,   &c.,   were   ever  executed   by  the   hand   of 


man." 


Unfortunately  the  paper  Leighton  used  was  of  the  kind 
which  becomes  injured  by  time.  The  brown  stains  which 
now  disfigure  the  sheets  and  the  faint  tone  of  the  pencilling 
make  it  impossible  to  reproduce  these  drawings  with  any 
worthy  result,  but  some  of  the  original  sketches  can  be 
seen  in  the  Leiehton   House  Collection. 


Translation?^ 

Rome,  ii  Via  della  Purificazione, 

March  3,  1857. 

My  very  dear  Master,  —  Heartiest  thanks  for  your  kind 
lines  of  the   3rd  of  last  month. 

I  hear  with  the  greatest  interest  that  your  cartoon  is  now 
finished,  and  that  you  expect  to  get  to  the  wall  next  year.  How 
I  envy  you  this  great  work !  I  cannot  deny  that  I  rejoice  a 
little,  secretly,  that  you  are  tied  down  to  bnon  fresco,  for  I  have 
a  passion  (unfortunately  an  altogether  unsatisfied  one)  for  this 
material.  You  may  be  quite  sure  that  if  it  is  in  any  way  pos- 
sible for  me,  I  shall  make  a  little  excursion  to  Cologne  in  order 
to  offer  my  humble  assistance  ;  nothing  could  be  more  delightful 
to  me. 

Some  works  of  yours  have  just  come  to  Rome  ;  illustrations 
to  a  prayer-book,  engraved  (I  believe)  by  Keller.  When  did  you 
make  these  charming  drawings  ?  The  one  with  the  blossoming 
staff  and  the  little  Madonna  is  quite  specially  sympathetic  to  me. 
The  things  are,  however,  engraved  without  feeling  or  delicacy. 

With  what   you   say  about   the  advantage   of   growing   older   I 


STEINLE   AND    ITALY    AGAIN  295 

quite  agree,  and  I  am  in  a  certain  respect  anxious  for  the  time 
when  I  shall  find  my  niveau,  and  shall  be  able  to  work  with  more 
peace  and  equanimity.  I  have  been  for  some  time  in  a  very 
painful  position — I  feel  so  humbly  my  incapacity  even  from  afar 
off  to  approach  the  entrancing  beauty  of  nature,  that  I  have  not 
the  courage  to  embark  upon  any  large  work.  For  some  time  I 
have  scarcely  composed  at  all  ;  partly,  it  is  true,  because  I  have 
no  time,  but  partly  also  because  I  do  not  feel  myself  in  a  position 
to  embody  an  idea  properly.  I  know  that  such  a  condition  is 
morbid,  and  hope  to  extricate  myself  from  it  in  time.  It  arises 
also  partly  from  the  fact  that  my  individuality  is  not  yet  sufficiently 
developed  ;  I  see  it  coming,  but  it  takes  a  very  long  time.  I 
know  already,  on  the  smallest  computation,  what  I  want,  but  I  do 
not  know  how  I  am  to  accomplish  it. 

I    went  recently   to  see   Cornelius,  who    is   always  genial   and 
charming.     He   is  drawing  on  one  of  the  Redelli  for  the  Campo 
Santo.     Rich  and  spirited  in  invention  and  arrangement,  the  form 
in    details,   however,    is   very    badly   drawn — heads  that  are    unper- 
missible  ;  he  treats  God's  nature  quite   cavalierly.       I    saw   at   his 
house  a  composition  by  a  certain  Woredle  (or  some  such  name) 
of  Vienna,  a  pupil  of  Fuhrich,  the  subject  taken  from  the  Apoca- 
lypse :   "  There   shall    be    wonders."      Above,   the    Saviour,   in    the 
usual  attitude,   with  the  usual   flowing  garment  ;  to  the   right  and 
left,    Mary  and   John,   in  their   respective  usual  attitudes  ;  at  their 
feet    four    angels    blowing    trumpets,  by  Cornelius  ;   in    the    back- 
ground a  number  of  comets  ;  lying  about  in  the  middle  and  fore- 
ground,  a    quantity   of    figures,  which    have    been    collected   from 
different    works    of    Cornehus',   strike    convulsive  attitudes   on   the 
floor  ;  for  the  rest,  the  whole  is  constructed  with  appalling  academic 
execution  and  lifelessness.    Cornelius  seemed  to  think  it  quite  right  ; 
I   consider   it   difficult,    with    reverence   and   love,  to   complete  the 
head  of  one  girl  ;  for  that  reason  I  am  not  fond  of  going  to  him, 
for    although    personally   he    is    extremely    sympathetic    to    me,    I 
cannot  help  feeling  that  I   do  not  fit  in  with  him,  and  am  obliged 
to   dissemble.      But  you    must   be   quite   weary   of   this   chattering 
letter,   dear  Master  ;   I  will  close.     Remember  me  most  kindly  to 
your    wife    and    children,   and  rely  always   upon  the  friendship  of 
your  grateful  pupil,  Leighton. 


296  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

Translation^ 

Thursday,  September  2,,  1857. 

Dear  Friend  and  Master, — I  was,  as  usual,  most  delighted 
to  receive  your  cordial  letter  of  21st  August;  I  am  touched  by 
your  constant  friendship,  but  also  somewhat  ashamed  that  you 
should  treat  your  much  indebted  pupil  almost  as  an  equal  and 
counsellor.  I  have  the  greatest  desire  to  see  your  second  car- 
toon, but  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  this  year  it  will  be  quite 
impossible,  for  I  am  going  on  a  journey  in  quite  the  opposite 
direction  ;  I  am  shortly  going  to  Africa,  partly  to  make  some 
landscape  studies,  but  also  to  make  acquaintance  with  that 
very  interesting  race,  but  not  in  order  to  become  a  painter  of 
Bedouins.  It  was  my  intention,  as  I  am  starting  immediately, 
not  to  write  till  I  came  back,  in  order  that  I  might  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you  ;  however,  the  following  has  suddenly  made 
me  change  my  mind  ;  the  fat,  affected,  tailor-like,  civil-spoken 
little  Jew  visited  me  recently  and  told  me  you  want  to  make 
inquiries  about  wall  painting,  and  that  I  might  tell  you,  if  I 
was  writing,  that  Couture  has  just  gone  away.  This  impelled 
me  to  write  immediately.  Will  you  forgive  me,  for  old  friend- 
ship's sake,  if  I  put  in  a  word  here,  to  which  you  need  not 
give  the  smallest  attention  ?  I  want  to  protest  vehemently, 
dear  Master,  against  all  o//-painting  on  zvalls ;  and  that,  not  be- 
cause fresco  painting  has  sufficed  for  the  greatest  works  of  the 
greatest  masters,  but  on  account  of  the  positive  disadvantages  of 
oils.  How,  in  effect,  do  the  two  materials  stand  to  one  another  ? 
Fresco  is  certainly  the  one  material  for  monuments.  First, 
because  it  is  the  most  suitable  for  a  broad,  massy,  imposing 
form,  for  in  no  material  can  one  pursue  form  so  completely 
without  losing  colour;  secondly,  because  by  no  other  method  can 
one  attain  such  masterly,  earnest,  quiet,  virile  effect  in  colour  ; 
thirdly,  however,  and  principally,  because  fresco  is  visible  from 
all  points  alike,  this  advantage  is  immeasurable  for  architectural 
art.  What,  on  the  other  hand,  are  the  advantages  of  oil  ? 
Only  one  occurs  to  me  and  that  is  quite  illusory,  i.e.  you  have 
a  wider  range  of  colour  ;  but  all  the  colours  that  an  oil  palette 
has  in  advance  of  fresco  are,  for  fresco,  superfluous  if  not 
pernicious.       Superfluous,    because     the    broken,    fine    grey    tones 


STEINLE    AND    ITALY   AGAIN  297 

which  have  such  an  infinite  charm  in  easel  pictures,  and  which 
counteract  the  otherwise  too  great  brilHance  of  the  material,  are 
quite  superfluous  in  a  painting  where  all  tones  are  dull  and  solid. 
Pernicious,  where  they  would  be  applicable,  because  they  might  mar 
the  majestic  peace  of  the  work.  And  then  it  should  be  remembered 
that  the  limited  scale  of  the  fresco  palette,  so  far  as  it  extends,  is 
unsurpassable  for  glow  and  atmosphere  and  strength.  Titian's 
frescoes  at  Padua  in  the  Tenola  St.  Antonio  rival  his  oil-paint- 
ings in  colour.  M.  Angelo's  "Madonna  in  the  Last  Judgment" 
might  (for  colour)  be  by  Tintoretto,  and  many  figures  on  this 
glorious  wall  are  as  glowing  as  Titian's !  As  regards  the  dis- 
advantages of  oil-painting,  I  can  only  say  that  they  often  blister 
in  the  shadows,  and  that  one  can  only  see  them  from  one  point  of 
view.  I  know  very  well  that  fresco  is  exposed  to  damp,  but  one 
can,  indeed  one  must,  have  one's  wall  examined  before  one 
begins  to  work,  and  if  it  is  well  dried  and  "  drained "  there  is 
no  danger  ;  at  the  worst,  one  can  cover  one's  wall  with  sheets 
of  lead  ;  it  has  been  discovered  that  this  was  often  done  in 
Pompeii.  Or  one  can  also  (there  are  instances)  paint  upon  a 
specially  prepared  canvas  away  from  the  wall.  But  you  know  all 
this  better  than  I.  Have  you  forgiven  me,  dear  Friend  ?  I  could 
not  forbear  from  saying  this,  and  rely  upon  your  indulgence. 

Do  not  allow  Schlosser  to  mislead  you  about  my  work.  I 
daub  on  steadily,  but  am  by  a  very  long  way  not  contented. 

I  send  these  lines  to  Frankfurt  in  the  hope  that  they  will 
be  forwarded  to  you. 

I  shall  stay  some  weeks  in  Algiers — can  I  do  anything  for 
you  ?  in  that  case  send  me  a  line.  Till  the  ist  October  a  letter 
will  find  me  ;  address,  Poste  Restante,  Algiers. 

All  good  luck  be  with  you  on  your  holidays,  and  may  you 
^ain  the  desired  strength. 

Keep   in  remembrance  your  loving  pupil, 

Fred  Leighton. 

21    Rue   PlGALLE. 

Algiers,  Friday,  iZth. 
Dearest  Mamma, — I   arrived   here  only   last    Monday,   as  the 
little    delay  about   the   money   made   me   lose   the    boat   by  which 


298  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

I  intended  to  sail  ;  having,  however,  nothing  in  my  studio  that 
was  dry  enough  or  otherwise  fit  to  work  on,  I  left  Paris  all  the 
same  and  visited  Avignon,  Nimes,  and  Aries,  most  interesting 
towns  which  I  had  long  desired  to  see.  Avignon  reminded  me 
so  vividly  of  certain  parts  of  Rome  that  it  was  all  I  could  do  not 
to  take  a  place  for  Civita  Vecchia  and  succumb  to  my  longing 
desire  to  see  Italy  once  more. 

I  have  not  the  least  idea  (especially  in  this  hot  weather) 
how  to  describe  to  you  this  strange  and  picturesque  town  in 
which  I  have  taken  up  my  temporary  quarters  ;  everything  where 
the  African  element  has  been  preserved  is  so  entirely  new,  so 
unlike  anything  that  you  have  seen,  that  I  see  no  chance  of 
putting  before  your  mind  any  living  image  of  the  thing.  Before 
going  further  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  dearest  Mammy,  that 
although  it  is  very  hot  I  am  perfectly  well  and  have  an  enor- 
mous appetite.  I  walk  from  six  to  eight  hours  every  day,  and 
bathe  regularly   in  the  sea. 

Algiers  occupies  one  horn  of  a  most  beautiful  bay,  thickly 
studded  with  villas  and  farms,  and  reminding  one  greatly  of 
Italy.  The  aspect  of  the  town,  however,  shows  you  at  once, 
and  from  a  great  distance,  that  you  are  in  no  European  land. 
You  must  know  that  oriental  houses  have  no  roofs,  but  are 
surmounted  by  terraces,  that  they  have  no  windows,  the  rooms 
being  lit  from  the  inner  court,  and  that  they  are  painted  three 
times  a  year  of  the  purest  white,  so  that  on  approaching  Algiers, 
rising  as  it  does  steeply  up  the  hillside,  it  looks  from  the  sea 
and  under  an  African  sun  like  a  pyramid  of  alabaster  or  marble, 
or,  as  some  poet  or  other  has  said  of  it,  like  a  swan  about  to 
spread  her  wings.  The  effect  of  this  whiteness  glittering  out  from 
the  green  and  purple  hills  and  hanging  over  a  dark-blue  sea 
is  really  most  beautiful  ;  unfortunately,  however,  the  whole  of  the 
lower  part  of  the  town  that  runs  along  the  port  has  been  so 
completely  Europeanized  that,  but  for  a  rather  pretty  mosque 
on  the  waterside,  you  might  fancy  you  were  at  Havre  or  any 
other  French  seaport  town.  As  soon,  however,  as  you  get  up  into 
the  Arab  town,  your  illusions  are  not  only  restored  but  enhanced, 
for  assuredly  nothing  could  be  more  perfectly  picturesque  and 
striking   than    the    steep,    tortuous    streets   that    climb    up    to    the 


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SKETCH  IN  OILS.     ALGIERS.     1895 


STEINLE   AND    ITALY   AGAIN  299 

Casbah,  or  fortress,  at  the  top  of  the  town.  The  upper  storeys 
of  the  houses  jut  out  into  the  street  in  such  a  manner  that  they 
constantly  meet,  forming  an  archway  underneath,  and  yet  the 
streets  are  never  dark,  from  the  dazzHng  whiteness  of  all  the 
walls,  which  reflect  the  light  in  every  direction  and  gild  and 
brighten  the  darkest  corners.  Fancy,  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
gleaming  white,  the  gorgeous  effect  produced  by  the  varied  colours 
of  oriental  costumes  and  complexion  :  the  copper-coloured  Arabs, 
the  sallow  Jews,  the  ebony  negroes  ;  and  then  the  frequent  dis- 
play of  every  kind  of  fruit — crimson  tomatoes  and  purple  auber- 
gines, emerald  and  golden  melons,  glowing  oranges,  luminous 
green  grapes,  and  to  relieve  the  blaze  of  ardent  colour,  the  tender 
ivory  tones  of  the  tuberose,  and  the  soft  milk-white  jessamine. 
I  don't  think  a  colourist  could  have  a  more  precious  lesson  than 
seeing  this  place  ;  you  see  in  half-an-hour  a  sufBcient  number 
of  fine  harmonies  to  set  you  up  for  a  year.  Not  less  striking 
than  the  display  of  colour  is  the  variety  of  types  and  costumes. 
Arabs  of  the  desert,  with  their  lofty  bearing  and  ample  drapery, 
the  tattered,  brawny  Kabyles,  the  richly  dressed  Jewesses,  the 
negresses,  dressed  in  long  indigo-coloured  draperies,  and  with 
bracelets  of  horn  round  their  ankles  ;  in  fact,  you  cannot  imagine 
a  greater  medley  than  is  presented  by  a  street  in  the  Arab  quarter 
of  the  town.  It  has  this  drawback,  that  in  the  midst  of  such 
an  embarras  de  richesses,  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  ever  be  able 
to  work  ;  as  yet  I  have  not  seen  a  pencil  even,  indeed  I  have 
not  been  off  my  feet  since  I  arrived,  and  my  head  is  in  a 
perfect  muddle.  I  spend  next  week  in  the  interior  of  the 
country,  and  when  I  come  back  I  shall  have  a  fortnight  in 
which  I  hope  to  do  something.  Getting  anybody  to  sit  here 
is  exceedingly  difficult,  and  costs  mints.  The  price  of  living 
here  is  the  same  as  Paris,  but  anything  at  all  extra  is  very 
dear ;  a  horse  or  a  cab  to  get  to  some  place  beyond  a  walk 
is  very  expensive,  and  my  consumption  of  drink  (lemonade, 
coffee,  &c.,  for  pure  water  is  not  wholesome  here)  from  six 
in  the  morning  till  bedtime  is  something  incredible.  Good- 
bye, dearest  Mother,  I  will  write  a  longer  letter  next  time.  I 
have  no  news  from  India.  Best  love  to  all,  from  your  most 
affectionate  boy. 


300  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

If  you  hear  from  Lina,  mind  you  let  me  know,  as  I  am  most 
anxious  for  news. 

I  am  so  sorry  the  ink  is  so  pale.  I  have  written  over  half 
the  letter,  but  it  is  not  much  use  ;  next  time  I  will  have  darker 
ink. 

Algiers,  Monday  29,  1857. 

Dearest  Mamma, — Poor  Lina,^  what  a  state  of  wretched  sus- 
pense and  terror  she  must  live  in  !  what  a  frightful  crisis  it  is ! 
God  grant  all  may  end  well.  Have  you  heard  lately  ?  Pray 
let  me  know  whatever  you  can  ;  at  this  distance  I  can  get  only 
the  most  salient  facts,  and  am  most  eager  to  hear  some  more  cir- 
cumstantial account  of  the  progress  of  affairs.  Poor  Sutherland, 
I  often  think  of  his  kind  grey  eyes  and  manly  carriage  ;  what 
a  harassing,  anxious  life  he  must  lead  ! 

Before  I  go  any  further  I  must  ensure  saying  a  thing  that  I  have 
been  intending  to  tell  for  some  time  past,  and  which  has  always 
been  driven  out  of  my  head  by  the  more  immediate  subject  of  my 
letter.  I  am  by  no  means  certain  that  I  have  not  already  men- 
tioned it ;  I  wish  to  be  quite  certain.  The  fact  is  that  as  besides 
corresponding  with  you  I  write  often  to  Mrs.  Sartoris,  and  still 
oftener  to  Henry  Greville,  and  have  continually  much  the  same  to 
tell  all  of  you,  I  often  cannot  remember  to  whom  I  have  written 
what,  and  I  am  therefore  uncertain  whether  I  told  you  that  Romeo 
and  Juliet  and  Pan  and  Venus  are  by  this  time  exciting  (let  us 
hope)  the  admiration  of  the  citizens  of  America  at  the  town  of 
Philadelphia.  It  costs  me  nothing  at  all  either  to  send  or  to  fetch, 
and  the  percentage  is  ten  per  cent.  I  sent  them  off  the  end  of 
last  month,  just  before  leaving  Paris  for  Africa.  Tom  Taylor 
is  on  the  committee,  and  I  think  the  speculation  may  turn  out 
good,  particularly  if  Mrs.  Kemble,  who  is  in  America  now,  takes 
an   interest  in  them. 

Putting  aside  all  question  of  anxiety  and  sorrow,  I  am  de- 
lighted with  my  visit  to  Algiers.  I  feel  that,  though  I  have  as  yet 
been  unable  to  touch  a  pencil,  I  have  already  taken  a  great  deal 
of  new  stuff,  and  if  I  were  to  leave  Africa  with  an  empty  sketch- 
book,   I   should  still   return   to   my   easel  improved    in    knowledge 

^  Mrs.  S.   Orr  was  in  India,  the  Mutiny  taking  place  at  that  time. 


A  !  ■ 


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SKETCH  IN  OILS.     ALGIERS.     1895 


STEINLE   AND    ITALY   AGAIN  301 

of  form  and  combination  of  colours.  Still  it  is  a  great  morti- 
fication to  me  to  see  such  fine  types  around  me  without  any 
means  of  getting  them  to  sit,  an  operation  to  which  they  have 
an  insuperable  objection  ;  if  it  were  not  vexatious,  it  would  be 
quite  amusing  to  see  how  they  slink  away  when  they  perceive 
you  are  trying  to  sketch  them. 

Of  course,  one   of   my  great   desires    w^as    to   see   if   possible  a 
Moorish  inte'rieur ;   and  in    this,  though  it  is  difficult  to   achieve,   I 
have  been  very  fortunate,  through  the  instrumentality  of  a  young 
native,    with   whom    I    became    accidentally    acquainted.       1    have 
made  the  acquaintance  of  one  Achmet,  son  of  Ali  Pasha,  a  decayed 
native  gentleman,  now  holding  office  in  the  French  customs,  but 
once   very   well   to    do   in   the  world.      I    have    been   twice  to   his 
house,   which    I    may   as   well    describe  to  you,  as   it  is  a  type  of 
all  Moorish  houses  in  this  part  of  the  world.     The  whole  of  the 
centre    of    the    building    is    taken    up    by  a    little    cortile,   open    to 
the  sky  and  surrounded   by  two  storeys  of  arcades  of  a  graceful 
shape,   on  to    which   the  rooms  open  as  in  Greek   houses.     These 
arcades    are    painted    pure    white,    and    are    relieved    by   fillets   of 
coloured  porcelain  tiles  that  have  a  most    original   and  charming 
effect  ;  the  first-floor  gallery  is  closed  in  by  a  breast-high  balustrade, 
elegantly  carved  and  painted  blue  or  green  ;  the  top  of  the  house 
is  invariably   an   open   terrace,   adorned  with   flowers   and   shrubs. 
The  rooms,  I  said,  open   on  the  corridors  and  have  no  windows 
(except  little  peeping  holes)  on  to  the  street  ;  they  are  consequently 
always  wrapped  in   a  sort  of  clear,  cool,  reflected  twilight  that  is 
inexpressibly  delightful  and  soothing  in  hot,  glaring  weather.     Each 
room   takes    up   one   side    of  the    house,   and   is   therefore   a   long 
narrow   strip  ;  immediately    opposite   the  door   is   an  alcove,  con- 
taining a  raised,   handsomely  cushioned   and   carpeted   divan,  and 
ornamented   invariably   with   three   florid   gilt   looking-glasses.      At 
the  foot  of  the  raised  divan   is  another  lower  one  for  those  who 
like  low   seats  ;  other  such  divans  run  along  the  wall,  and  a  few 
highly   wrought,    embossed    chests    and    other    oriental    articles   of 
furniture  complete  the  decoration  of  the  room.      In  such  a  room 
Achmet  Oulid   received   us,  putting  before    us  delicious  hot  coffee 
in  tiny  cups  with  filagree  stands,  a  delightful  kind  of  peach  jam, 
and   the   pipe   of   peace.      You  would   have    laughed   to    see   your 


302  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

son  lolling  on  a  Turkey  carpet  and  puffing  away  at  a  long  pipe. 
Our  host  has  the  dearest  little  daughter,  ten  years  old,  whom 
by  a  great  stretch  of  courtesy  we  were  allowed  to  see.  By-the- 
bye,  nearly  all  Arab  children  are  lovely,  and  look  great  darlings 
in  their  Turkish  dress. 

My  paper  is  coming  to  an  end  and  the  boat  does  not  wait, 
so  I  close.  I  shall  write  you  another  letter  before  I  leave  this 
and  tell  you  more  of  what   I   have  done  and  seen. 

Good-bye,  dearest   Mammy. 

Leighton  refers  to  this  visit  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Mark 
Pattison  (1879),  who  was  about  to  write  an  account  of  his  art. 
"  This  visit  made  a  deep  impression  on  me  ;  I  have  loved 
'  The  East,'  as  it  is  called,  ever  since.  By-the-bye,  I  drew 
here  my  (almost)  only  large  water-colour  drawing  *  A 
Negro  Festival '  (the  picture  Leighton  always  referred  to 
as  'The  Niggers'),  which  was  thought  very  well  of  by  my 
friends," 

To  his  sister  in   India  he  wrote  : — 

Since  I  last  wrote  I  have  spent  a  month  or  six  weeks  in  Algeria, 
and  have  opened  an  acquaintance  with  the  East  which  I  hope  to 
keep  up,  not  only  from  the  pleasure  but  from  the  instruction  I  have 
derived  from  even  a  short  visit.  My  next  journey,  however,  will  be 
to  the  old,  original  cradle  of  Western  Art — to  Egypt,  which  country, 
as  I  shall  visit  it  under  widely  different  circumstances  from  what 
you  did,  poor  dear,  and  I  trust  in  much  better  health,  will  of  course 
strike  me  in  a  very  different  manner.  There  are  many  things  in  the 
Arab  quarter  in  Algiers  which  will  probably  stand  comparison  with 
Cairo,  but  besides  that,  Egypt  has  far  more  physiognomy  as  a 
country  than  the  coast  of  Algeria.  I  am  anxious  to  study  the 
Egyptian  type,  which  is  truly  grand  and  wonderful.  However, 
these  are  plans  for  a  tolerably  remote  day,  as  I  shall  spend  my 
next  winter  in  my  dear,  dear  old  Rome,  to  which  I  am  attached 
beyond  measure  ;  indeed,  Italy  altogether  has  a  hold  on  my  heart 
that  no  other  country  ever  can  have  (except,  of  course,  my  own)  ; 
and  although,  as  I  just  now  said,  I  was  most  delighted  with  Africa, 


STEINLE   AND    ITALY   AGAIN  303 

and  have  not  a  moment  to  look  back  to  that  was  not  agreeable,  yet 
there  is  an  intimate  little  corner  in  my  affections  into  which  it  could 
never  penetrate.  If  I  am  as  faithful  to  my  wife  as  I  am  to  the 
places  I  love,  I  shall  do  very  well.  What  the  first  impression  of  an 
Eastern  country  is,  you  already  know  by  experience  as  far  as  the 
mere  aspect  goes,  but  to  understand  my  sensations  you  must 
translate  your  own  into  a  far  brighter  key.  In  my  case  everything 
was  for  me  :  a  decent  passage,  a  glorious  day,  a  light  heart,  and  a 
firm  determination  to  enjoy  myself  ;  to  this  add  that  more  rapid 
apprehension  of  what  is  beautiful  which  belongs  to  an  artist's  eye, 
and  is  the  natural  consequence  of  the  constant  exercise  and 
cultivation   of   that  faculty. 

I  saw  in  Algiers  many  things  that  interested  me,  very  much  du 
point  de  viie  niaurs  fetes,  with  strange  music  on  queer  instruments, 
odd  dances,  odder  singing.  The  music  of  the  Moors  is  altogether 
very  strange  ;  it  is  monotonous  in  the  extreme,  fitful,  and  sometimes 
apparently  without  any  kind  of  shape,  and  yet  there  is  something 
very  characteristic  and  almost  attaching  about  it.  This  applies  only 
to  instrumental  music,  for  as  for  the  voice,  they  seem  to  consider  it 
only  as  a  shriller  instrument,  using  always  at  full  pitch,  with  neck 
outstretched  and  eyes  half  shut,  always  from  the  throat  and  always 
higher  than  they  can  go.  It  is  very  strange  that  a  nation  which 
attained  once  so  high  a  pitch  of  civilisation,  should  either  never 
have  known  or  have  entirely  forgotten  that  the  human  voice  is 
capable  of  inflection,  and  what  an  all-powerful  vehicle  it  may  be 
made  of  every  passionate  sentiment  or  soothing  influence.  However, 
much  the  same  thing  is  noticeable  in  the  peasants  near  Rome,  whose 
songs  consist  (within  a  definite  shape)  of  long-sustained  chest  notes 
that  are  peculiar  in  the  extreme,  and  though  often  harsh  seem  to 
be  wonderfully  in  harmony  with  the  long  unbroken  lines  of  the 
Campagna. 

A  propos  of  chanting,  I  saw  a  very  striking  thing  one  day  in 
Algiers,  in  the  shape  of  a  Rhapsodist,  who  recited,  with  an  uncouth 
instrumental  accompaniment,  a  long  string  of  strophes  describing  (I 
am  told)  the  life  and  deeds  of  some  hero  ;  it  was  exactly  what  a 
recital  of  the  Homeric  poems  must  have  been  amongst  the  early 
Greeks.  The  Homer  stood  up  in  the  midst  of  a  motley  and  most 
picturesque  group  of  breathless  listeners,  and  chanted,  with  a  sort 


304  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD    LEIGHTON 

of  animated  monotony,  verses  of  about  two  lines  each,  heightening 
the  colour  of  his  tale  by  gesticulations.  After  each  strophe  the 
music  struck  in,  consisting  of  two  queerly  shaped  tambours  and  a 
shrill  flute.  After  the  performance,  or  rather,  during  the  pauses, 
money  was  collected  in  the  tambourines.  Homer  (if  he  ever  lived) 
no  doubt  did  the  same. 

On  his  return  to  Paris  Leighton  wrote  to  Steinle  : — 

Translation.'] 

Paris,  October  22,  1857. 

My  very  dear  Friend, — Since  I  know  your  industry  better 
than  any  one  else,  and  also  know  that  at  this  moment  you  are  quite 
particularly  busy,  I  cannot  be  surprised  that  you  have  not  answered 
my  letter  of  last  month  ;  however,  some  warm  expressions  slipped 
from  me  in  that  letter  which  you  may  perhaps  have  taken  amiss  ; 
lest  this  should  be  indeed  the  case,  I  hasten,  my  dear  Master,  to 
make  you  an  ample  apology  and  to  beg  you  not  to  take  amiss  what 
I  may  have  said  too  hastily  ;  but  if  it  is  not  so,  do  send  me  a  short 
note  that  my  doubt  may  be  solved  ;  for  it  is  an  excessively  painful 
idea  to  me  that  a  single  word  from  my  mouth  should  have  dis- 
pleased you. 

I  have  just  come  back  from  Africa,  where  I  have  spent  some 
weeks  with  extreme  pleasure,  and,  I  believe,  not  without  great 
benefit  ;  indeed,  I  might  say  that  an  artist  cannot  perfect  his  sense 
of  form  so  well  anywhere  as  in  the  East  ;  the  types  of  characteristic 
stamp  which  meet  one's  eye  at  every  step  are  a  wonder  to  see,  and 
of  the  simple  grandeur  of  the  costumes  one  can  form  no  previous 
conception — one  sees  real  Michael  Angelos  running  about  the 
streets. 

I  have  done  little  or  almost  nothing,  for  one  cannot  possibly 
induce  the  Arabs  to  sit  ;  however,  I  believe  I  have  learnt  a  great 
deal  by  my  observations  ;  I  have  already  made  a  resolution  to 
become  acquainted  with  the  Egyptian  race  in  the  near  future. 
But  now  I  must  see  to  it  that  I  produce  something  this  winter, 
for  time  goes  bye  with  giant  strides,  and  will  not  be  called  back 
again. 

And  you,  my  dear  friend  ?  what  are  you  working  at  now  ?    How 


STEINLE    AND    ITALY    AGAIN  305 

I  should  like  to  see  your  second  cartoon  !  but  unfortunately  that  is 
one  of  the  impossibilities.  What  has  happened  about  the  church 
you  were  to  paint  ?  Has  anything  been  settled  ?  Once  more  I  beg 
you  to  write  me  a  few  lines  to  assure  me  that  you  are  not  angry  at 
my  indiscretion. 

Please  remember  me  most  kindly  to  your  wife.  And  keep  in 
kindly  remembrance,  your  grateful  pupil,  Leighton. 

And  again  : — 

Translation.'] 

Paris,  21  Rue  Pigalle, 
November  2,  1857. 

Dear  Friend  and  Master, — All  my  best  thanks  for  your  kind 
letter,  and  for  the  enclosed  photograph  of  your  splendid  cartoon  ; 
there  is  no  need  for  me  to  tell  you  how  greatly  this  has  rejoiced  and 
delighted  me  ;  by  now  you  know  that  beforehand  regarding  every 
work  of  Steinle's  (Steinleischen  Arbeit),  and  in  no  work  more  than 
in  this  do  I  recognise  the  fulness  and  the  brilliance  of  your  fancy  ; 
meanwhile  (as  is  only  human)  my  joy  is  a  trifle  damped  by  the  over- 
whelming desire  to  know  the  complete  composition,  and  then  to  see 
the  original  itself.  How  glad  I  am  that  at  last  you  have  a  worthy 
task! 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  me  to  find  that  you  did  not  take  amiss 
what  I  wrote  about  wall  painting,  and  that  you  quite  understood 
that  I  could  only  become  so  wrathful  regarding  a  matter  which 
interests  me  in  the  highest  degree.  I  wish  with  all  my  heart  that 
you  may  discover  something  which  will  fill  all  requirements,  while 
at  the  same  time,  as  a  bigoted  frescoist,  I  shake  my  head  a  little  at 
your  heresy.  You  will  certainly  find  me  dreadfully  stifT-necked, 
dear  Friend  !  That  is  because  lately  I  have  seen  fresco  painting 
much  nearer,  and  have  compared  it  with  oil  painting  directly  beside 
it  ;  I  cannot  deny  that  in  colour  I  find  it  immeasurably  more  frank 
and  stronger  than  its  oil-neighbour,  which  appears  muddy  and  dull 
next  it.  True,  Cennini  mentions  wall  painting,  but  only  supple- 
mentarily,  and  after  he  has  written  at  length  of  buon  pcseo.  I 
certainly  fall  into  his  views  again  ! 

Now,  adieu,  my  dear  friend  ;  once  more  all  my  best  thanks  ; 
VOL.  I.  U 


3o6  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

you  may  rely  upon  it,  that  the  very  first  thing  of  mine  that  is  photo- 
graphed shall  immediately  find  its  way  to  you  at  Frankfurt  ;  mean- 
time, I  candidly  confess  to  you  that  I  am  quite  terribly  dissatisfied 
with  my  performances,  and  could  only  submit  a  hasty  work  to  you. 
Think  often  of  your  most  devoted  pupil, 

Fred  Leighton. 

(Written  below  by  Steinle) 
Answered,  4th  June  1858. 

The  following  letters,  dated  30th  November  1857,  Paris, 
refer  to  Mrs.  Orr's  narrow  escape  from  Aurungabad,  owing 
to  the  fidelity  of  Sheik  Boran  Bukh,  in  the  time  of  the 
Mutiny.  It  is  a  good  example  of  the  ease  with  which 
Leighton  threw  himself  into  the  atmosphere  of  a  situation. 
It  reads  like  the  writing  of  an  Oriental ! 


Most  valued  Friend, — The  report  of  your  gallant  and 
generous  conduct  towards  my  sister  and  the  companions  of  her 
flight  has  reached  my  ears,  not  only  by  private  letters  but  also 
through  several  of  the  first  English  newspapers.  From  one  end 
of  this  country  to  another,  Englishmen  have  read  the  account 
of  your  loyal  bearing,  and  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the 
other  there  has  been  but  one  voice  to  praise  and  to  admire  it  ; 
for  uprightness  and  fidelity  are  precious  in  the  eyes  of  all  English- 
men, and  honour  and  courage  are  to  them  as  the  breath  of  life  ; 
but  my  feelings  towards  you  are  naturally  doubly  warm  and 
grateful,  for  to  your  care  and  vigilance  I  owe  the  safety  of  a 
most  precious  and  valued  life,  that  of  a  beloved  sister.  It  is  to 
express  to  you  this  gratitude  that  I  now  write,  and  also  to  beg 
you  to  accept  as  a  small  token  of  my  regard  a  shawl  which  I 
send  together  with  this  letter,  and  which  will  be  as  a  sign  to 
cement  our  new  friendship.  Wear  it  in  remembrance  of  that 
perilous  night  at  Aurungabad,  and  in  wearing  it  remember  that 
on  that  night  your  fidelity  won  for  you  many  new  friends,  and 
amongst  the  truest  and  most  sincere  count  the  brother  of  Mrs. 
Orr,  Fred  Leighton, 


STEINLE   AND   ITALY   AGAIN  307 


To  Frederick  Leighton,  Esq.,  &c.  &c. 

AURUNGABAD,    l^ih  July    1858. 

Most  respected  Sir, — I  beg  to  return  you  my  humble  and 
hearty  thanks  for  your  khidness  in  havhig  sent  me  a  revolving 
pistol,  which  was  highly  admired  by  all  who  saw  it.  I  cannot 
be  sufficiently  thankful  to  your  invaluable  kindness.  I  shall  not 
part  with  it  till  death,  but  keep  it  as  a  remembrance  of  your 
high  estimation  of  me  your  unworthy  servant,  and  ever  pray  for 
your  and  family's  welfare  and  happiness. 

I  feel  very  uneasy  in  not  hearing  from  Captain  Orr  since  he 
left  us  ;  I  beg  you  will  kindly  let  me  know  how  he  is  getting 
on,  as  I  hear  that  he  is  not  altogether  very  well.  I  was  very 
anxious  to  accompany  him,  and  he  agreed  to  take  me,  but  on 
second  consideration  he  changed  his  mind.  I  hope  some  day  or 
other  to  be  able  to  see  you  and  family  by  God's  grace. 

I  conclude,  sir,  with  my  humble  respects  and  good  wishes 
to  self  and  family.  Hoping  all's  well. — I  am,  Sir,  your  most 
obedient  and  grateful  servant, 

Sheik  Boran  Bukh,  Silladar. 

Thursday. 

Dear  Papa, — In  accordance  with  your  request,  yesterday 
received,  I  enclose  an  envelope  for  B.  B.,  on  which  perhaps  you 
will  be  so  good  as  to  add  his  rank,  whatever  that  may  be — I 
believe  Subahdar.  I  am  glad  the  letter  is  right,  and  knowing 
your  great  epistolary  facilities,  I  don't  feel  as  sorry  as  I  ought 
to  have  interfered  with  your  design.  I  don't  think  it  will  fall 
heavily  on  you. 

I  have  a  great  favour  to  ask  of  you  ;  and  I  feel  sure  you 
won't  grudge  it  me,  as  it  concerns  a  man  whose  house  is  a 
second  home  to  me :  Cartwright — indefatigable  as  he  is,  he 
keeps  constantly  on  the  alert  for  any  vacancy  in  Parliament, 
and  is  in  frequent  communication  with  Hayter  on  the  subject. 
Now  the  representation  of  Scarborough  has  just  become  vacant, 
and  I  should  take  it  as  the  greatest  kindness  if  you  would  write 


3o8  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

to  that  great  friend  of  yours  in  that  town  (a  banker — whose 
name  I,  if  I  were  to  sit  on  my  head,  I  could  not  remember  ;  but 
you  know),  mentioning  Cartwright  as  a  great  friend  and  most 
appropriate  man.  He  (your  friend)  is  sure  to  be  very  influential 
amongst  the  townsfolk.  I  should  wish  you  to  say  this :  state 
who  Cartwright  is,  his  family,  place  (Aynhoe  Park,  Brackley),  his 
relations  with  Hayter  the  Whipper-in  (that  he  may  not  appear  tombe 
des  nues),  and  the  following  creed :  Pledge  himself  to  Reform 
Bill  with  extension  of  franchise  ;  considers  the  Educational  ques- 
tion amongst  the  most  important  of  the  day  ;  wants  a  thorough 
inquiry  into  India  and  Indian  affairs  (government),  and  is  pre- 
pared to  support  Lord  Palmerston's  administration.  All  this 
is  very  important  to  mention,  because  a//  his  relations  are  hot 
Tories.  Also,  in  case  your  friend  should  accept  the  suggestion 
and  want  to  communicate  at  once  Cartwright,  give  his  (C.'s) 
direction  in  Paris,  No.  5  Rue  Roquepine.  Will  you  do  this 
for  me  ? 

Please  give  dear  Mamma  a  wigging  for  expressing  no  pleasure 
at  the  prospect  I  hinted  at  of  running  over  to  Bath  for  a  day 
or  two  in  the  winter ;  tell  her  if  she  does  not  behave  better  I 
won't  come.  I  would  write  at  greater  length,  but  my  model  is 
waiting,  and  I  have  no  time. — With  anticipated  thanks,  your 
affectionate  son,  Fred. 

It  was  in  the  year  1857  that  Leighton  painted  the 
beautiful  figure  of  "  Salome,  the  Daughter  of  Herodias," 
which  apparently  was  never  exhibited  in  any  exhibition 
of  his  works  till  that  of  1897.  A  sketch  (see  List  of 
Illustrations)  made  for  the  picture  is  in  the  Leighton  House 
Collection,  also  other  drawings  of  dancing  figures  sketched 
in  Algiers. 

To  his  mother  he  wrote  in  the  beginning  of  1858  : — 

Monday,  Ja7i.  1858. 
Dearest  Mamma,— Many  thanks  for  your  nice  long  letter,  which 
I  had  been  anxiously  expecting  not  only  for  news  of  yourself  but  to 


STUDY  FOR  "SALOME,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF 

HERODIAS/'     1857 
Leighton  House  Collection 


xioitoaiioD  S8U0H  riotrfsisJ 


STEINLE  AND   ITALY   AGAIN  309 

hear  what  tidings  had  reached  you  from  India.  I  am  so  glad  dear 
Lina  continues  tolerably  well  considering  her  position.  I  can  fully 
understand  how  dreadfully  anxious  poor  Sutherland  must  have  been 
the  whole  time  about  her.  I  mean  to  write  to  her  myself  without 
delay.  Will  you  please  let  me  have  her  present  direction,  as  I  don't 
know  it?  How  kind  Sutherland  is  to  have  remembered  at  such  a 
moment  about  my  tigerskin !  What  an  excellent  and  thoughtful 
creature  he  must  be  !  The  extract  from  Brig.  Stuart's  despatch  is 
most  gratifying  and  satisfactory,  but  I  want  to  see  it  in  print  ;  where 
is  it  published  ?  can't  you  somehow  get  it  and  let  me  have  it  ?  I 
have  the  greatest  desire  to  possess  it  in  that  shape.  What  a  nice 
letter  Booran  Buckh's  is.  I  am  afraid  that  about  the  regiment 
returning  to  Aurungabad  is  a  hope  not  very  likely  to  be  realised. 
There  is  still  a  frightful  deal  to  do  in  Oude.  Sir  Colin  wants  men 
sadly,  and  cavalry  is  particularly  precious. 

Mario's  etrennc  cost  me  a  pound,  it  was  the  least  I  could  do. 
Let  me  reassure  you,  dear  Mamma,  about  my  behaviour  to  that 
amiable  creature.  I  have  been  at  his  house  often  since,  and  am 
sure  he  is  not  in  the  least  hurt  ;  as  for  his  thinking  I  was  proud  about 
his  being  an  actor,  that  is  so  out  of  the  question  that  I  could  not 
help  laughing  when  I  read  the  passage  in  your  letter.  In  the  first 
place,  he  would  never  dream  of  suspecting  me  of  such  a  piece  of 
vulgarity,  and  in  the  next,  actor  or  no,  he  still  is  Count  Candia,  and 
therefore  more  than  my  equal  in  rank. 

I  hope  I  may  be  with  you  somewhere  about  the  6th  or  7th 
February,  and  should  stay  till  the  loth  or  nth.  It  would  be 
humbug  to  say  that  I  should  not  rather  find  you  alone  than  in  a 
whirlpool  of  funereal  gaieties  ;  but,  however,  I  am  at  your  disposal  ; 
do  with  me  as  you  wish.  I  have  been  suffering  very  much  of  late 
from  tooth  and  face  ache.  I  am  rather  better  now,  thanks  to,  or  in 
spite  of,  homceopathy. 

Lady  Cowley  I  have  never  found  in  yet.  The  Embassy  parties 
have  not  begun  yet.  I  go  out  almost  every  evening,  but  only  in  a 
circle  of  four  or  five  houses.  I  can't  stay  at  home,  my  eyes  are  too 
weak  to  do  anything,  I  am  sorry  to  say ;  I  have  not  opened  a  book 
this  winter.  The  Hollands  are  going  to  Naples,  to  my  great  regret  ; 
they  were  very  kind  ;  poor  Lady  Holland  has  only  just  recovered 
from  a  very  serious  illness. 


3IO  THE   LIFE   OF   LORD   LEIGHTON 

You  tell  me  to  bring  over  my  Algerine  sketches,  but  I  have 
very  little  to  show,  a  few  scratches  only  of  types  ;  my  two  principal 
studies  are  in  oils;  I  can't  well  take  those  over.  I  am  working 
away  at  my  pictures  as  well  as  the  pitch-dark  weather  allows 
(which  is  very  badly)  ;  however,  I  hope  they  may  turn  out  well. 
The  silent  Sartoris  said  to-day  he  thought  my  Juliet  picture  "safe 
to  succeed." 

Good-bye,  dear  Mamma  ;  best  love  to  all  from  your  most  affect, 
boy,  Fred. 


END    OF    VOL.    I 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  6^  Co. 
Edinburgh  <Sr^  London 


**  BLIND   SCHOLAR  AND  DAUGHTER 

No.  1,    "Romola** 


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NELLO'S  SHOP:  *' SUPPOSE  YOU  LET  ME  LOOK 

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